Phoenixtraenen (E)
by EvilDime
Summary: Azkaban. Harry has been betrayed and abandoned by everyone he held dear. Or maybe not everyone? ...What will Harry do when Voldemort conquers the island prison? - HP/DM. Sad fic.
1. Prologue

_**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter isn't mine, I don't make any money with my writing. _

_**Beta:** RedButterfly33_

 _ **Warnings:** suicidal, dark, attempted rape (sort of), major character death. _

_**A/N:** Another translation of one of my older fics. This one is labelled HP/DM, but they don't get a happy ending together. I thought it's fair to let you know ahead of time. Also, this is a horcrux-free AU. Hope you'll still read the fic, and if so: Enjoy! ^^ - Dime_

* * *

 **Phoenix Tears**

 _by Dime_

* * *

 _Now again I find myself so far down  
Away from the sun  
That shines into the darkest place  
I'm so far down  
Away from the sun again...  
\- "Away from the sun" by 3 doors down_

* * *

 **Prologue - _August 12_ _th_ _, 1997_**

 _August 12th, 1997_

"Hello!"

 _"Hello! How are you?"_

"No better and no worse than the last time you visited."

 _"Just as gloomy as yesterday, then."_

"Yesterday, was it? I have lost all sense of time. Sometimes it seems like you just left and there you are again, and other times, many days pass in-between... But it is good to see you."

 _"I come here once every day. Always around noon. Maybe this constant will help to anchor you in reality."_

"Hum. Sometimes, I am not sure I want that any more."

 _"I understand. But life will not get easier if you reject reality. It may be cruel, but only through accepting it can you truly enjoy it when it does change."_

"As if!"

 _"I'll freely admit it's rather unlikely. But should it happen after you've forsworn reality, you may not notice and remain caught in the half-world of your thoughts, desires and nightmares forever more."_

"My nightmares? I think I'd rather keep my wits about me, then."

 _"What can I do to help you with that?"_

"..."

 _"Isn't there anything at all?"_

"You could give me a time-turner and send me back six years. I wouldn't make the same mistakes again."

 _"What mistakes?"_

"First and foremost, the mistake of trusting people. I haven't met a single one who deserved it."

 _"Not even your friends?"_

"Friends. I once thought I had those. Unfortunately, I was sadly mistaken."

 _"…"_

"There is one thing you can do for me."

 _"Tell me."_

"You can listen to me. I am living alone with my memories and nightmares. The boundaries between dream and reality are growing hazy... I hardly know any more what I experienced, what _he_ did, and what never happened. Can you help me to build new boundaries?"

 _"It will be my pleasure."_


	2. September 1st, 1997

_(Disclaimer: see first chapter)  
_

 ** _Beta:_** _The lovely RedButterfly33! Thank you so much!_

 ** _A/N:_** _Also, a big thank you to mandancie and Gwen Polk for the reviews... and to those four crazy people who already fav'ed this at just over 400 words. Warms my heart. I hope you'll like the remaining 30,000-some words, as well. :D_

 **1.**

 _September 1st, 1997_

The welcoming feast was over. With sad eyes, Professor Black looked at the students following their respective prefects to their dorms. It was a school year like any other. Yet for him, instead of the beginning of something new, it signified the death of something old. Now that the Hogwarts school year was under way, he could no longer hide from the truth.

His godson, the child of Lily and James, had become a murderer. He would never see him again.

What had he done wrong? Was there anything he could have done? If he had been there for Harry more, would the boy not have made this mistake?

As he so often did, he once again wished he hadn't been barred from seeing Harry for nearly thirteen years. _Damn the Ministry! And damn those Muggles for turning him into this, into..._ No, he could not think like that. It was wrong to speak ill of the dead.

Tiredly, Sirius got up and followed the other professors to the teachers' room.

* * *

Professor Vector was the last person to leave the room.

At the faculty meeting, Sirius Black had once more been introduced as the new professor for Defence against the Dark Arts, a little more detailed this time than the announcement to the student body had been; organizational questions pertaining to the first week of school had been discussed; and uncomfortable topics had been avoided in favour of a harmonic start of the school year.

Sirius had gotten the position after professor Umbridge had been ordered back to the Ministry. It seemed that the Minister's interest in Hogwarts politics had greatly diminished since Christmas.

Now, the only people left in the teachers' room were Order members. Headmaster Dumbledore rose from his seat and with the ease of long practice opened the hidden door to the hallway that led to his office. The wizards and witches already waiting behind it now impatiently crowded into the room. Aurors Tonks and Leigh, Remus Lupin and several Weasleys were the first in the group to come in and take their places around the conference table.

Soon, the entire Order was gathered and Dumbledore opened the meeting.

"Today, I received another warning from Fawkes," he jumped right in. If need be, the old wizard could get to the point with surprising speed.

"It seems that Voldemort has gained a new spy in the Ministry." Nervous whispering and hissing went through the ranks of the gathered Order members. "The wizard in question is Mr. Leigh."

"WHAT?!"

Mrs. Leigh, a nondescript Auror with short, brunette hair, slim body and a pale complexion, jumped up and glared daggers at Dumbledore. "Albus, this has got to be the worst joke ever! My husband would never join in You-Know-Who's cause!"

The headmaster calmly met her eyes. Then he pointed his wand at the Auror and said: " _Petrificus Totalis._ "

"Albus!" A great outcry went up around the room. Several people had jumped to their feet, faces twisted in either fear or rage. Dumbledore had never behaved like this before.

Meanwhile, Dumbledore calmly remained standing as he was, waiting until he once more had the entire Order's undivided attention. "Severus, please fetch me a phial of Veritaserum. Everyone else, do take your seats. I know that my behaviour must appear very callous, but please consider the situation carefully before you condemn me. If Mr. Leigh indeed turns out to be a Death Eater or at least a sympathizer for the enemy, we need to be _certain_ that his wife is still on our side. There are too few of us, and our fight is too important; we cannot afford to have a spy in our midst."

"Yeah, one's quite enough," Sirius grumbled and threw a dark glare at his personal arch-enemy, Severus Snape, who was just returning from his quarters. Dumbledore frowned, but did not react otherwise. He had long since given up on forcing a reconciliation between these two men. Without a word, he accepted the small phial of Veritaserum and set to work.

* * *

It turned out that Martha Leigh was still an honourable member of the Order of the Phoenix. Once the potion had worn off and she was back in full control of her utterances, Dumbledore of course had to listen to a lengthy diatribe about his lack of trust etc. pp.

"How can you be so sure your source is even trustworthy, Albus?"

Dumbledore felt the intense gazes of the entire group resting on him. This question had often been put to him, and as always, it made him uncomfortable.

"Who is it?"

He sighed. "I truly do not know. One day, Fawkes simply started vanishing around noon without a comment. He does not tell me where he is going and often stays out for hours. For two weeks, now, he's been bringing me information on Voldemort. He keeps any details about his informant from me, it appears he has been sworn to secrecy."

"Dumbledore! This is reckless!" an irritated voice was heard from the corner where Molly and Arthur Weasley were sitting with three of their sons.

"I would very much like to know myself who this strange informant might be, as I have never before heard of anyone but a phoenix's familiar being capable of understanding such a bird. However, this wizard - if wizard he be - must have found a way to use Fawkes as a messenger. Of course it would suffice if he spoke to Fawkes; but I once sent Fawkes back with a detailed question - and he returned with the desired answer."

"That still does not mean they're trustworthy," Alastor Moody grumbled.

"I do know better than to carelessly give my trust, especially in light of recent events." He did not have to say anything more about those events, the sudden despondent silence told him louder than any words that everyone knew what he was referring to. The events of the past winter had shaken them all badly.

"However, the last three hints were not only correct, but also of the greatest importance. Without them, we would have suffered some heavy losses at Voldemort's last attack; as it is, we escaped with no more than a fright. And let us not forget that it is Fawkes bringing me these informations. We have known each other since the days of Grindelwald's terror, and I would never hesitate to trust him with my life."

Mentioning the powerful dark wizard Dumbledore had defeated in his younger years did not fail to have an impact. The younger members especially looked at each other sheepishly, feeling ashamed that they had questioned the judgement of the wise and battle-seasoned head of the Order.

It was decided that Malcolm Leigh would also secretly be questioned with Veritaserum. His wife reluctantly agreed.

* * *

A week later the man was brought before the Wizengamot and sentenced to ten years in Azkaban. Martha rose from her seat in the court room's first row, pale-faced and with puffy red eyes.

"Why?"

The Aurors leading Mr. Leigh outside stopped and granted their prisoner a brief moment to answer.

"Martha, I only wanted what's best for you, for us," he started earnestly. "If even Harry Potter changes sides, how could we possibly resist the Dark Lord?"

Martha sobbed. "You served You-Know-Who for my sake?"

He looked at her with soft, warm eyes. "I love you."

Martha Leigh sat on that bench, sobbing her heart out, long after the Aurors had led her husband from the court room. They were taking him to Azkaban, from where he would emerge ten years hence deeply changed at best, completely brain-damaged at worst - if he returned at all.

"I... I will visit you... Never doubt it!..."

* * *

 _ **A/N** : I brought Sirius back just because, and gave him a public pardon for no reason at all. I just wanted to. He's not even particularly relevant to the rest of the story. ...So just ignore him if you like. :P_


	3. December

_(Disclaimer: see first chapter)_

 _ **Beta** : RedButterfly33 - thank you! :D_

* * *

 **2.**

* * *

(December)

 _"My uncle did WHAT?" Harry looked at the headmaster aghast._

 _Dumbledore answered him with that famous and widely feared twinkle in his eyes that usually accompanied his more brilliant ideas. "He has asked that we send you home for Christmas this year."_

 _"But I AM at home here! I don't want to spend Christmas at the Dursleys'!"_

 _Dumbledore sighed. "Harry, why can you not give them this chance? They want to reconcile with you. They WANT you to come stay with them. Surely you are not so full of hate that you would not grant them a second chance?"_

 _Harry snorted, but refrained from commenting._

 _"Harry. You are a symbol of hope for the entire wizarding world. They expect you to bring them peace. You never complain about that. Then why can you not accept a peace offering by your aunt and uncle?"_

 _"Because they damn well did their very worst to show me for fifteen long years just how much they despise me! Professor, you can't seriously be suggesting that they have changed now, all of a sudden?!"_

 _"I am indeed. I do not want you to become as bitter and hateful as Voldemort, Harry."_

 _"Bah!" Harry once more gave a derisive snort and, standing up, began to nervously pace Dumbledore's small office. "Before the Dursleys even admit I'm a thinking, feeling human being, Voldemort will be dancing cha-cha-cha with Neville!"_

 _Dumbledore furrowed his brow. "Harry, this rage is not good for you. You have to let go of it! I believe it is for the best that you go to your relatives and reconcile with them."_

 _"What if I don't want to?" Harry's eyes were sparkling with anger._

 _"Then I fear I cannot write you a letter of recommendation for the Auror's Academy."_

 _Harry froze. With his lousy potions grades, he'd never get into the academy without a letter of recommendation by the headmaster!_

 _"I thought you were above such base methods as blackmail, Headmaster," he spat._

 _Fawkes left his perch to come sit on Harry's shoulder and warble at him soothingly. Harry wanted to irritably chase him off at first, but then thought better of it. The bird had not wronged him, and his presence was indeed very soothing._

 _"I am deeply sorry, but I cannot recommend such an angry and self-righteous young man to the academy," Dumbledore said mercilessly. Harry wordlessly stared at him. The headmaster had never been this cold towards him before. Even Fawkes seemed shocked, for he trilled disapprovingly and dug his claws deeper into Harry's shoulder in a fashion bordering on possessive. It hurt; but Harry felt it was meant as support, so he did not struggle against it._

 _"Is there nothing I can do to convince you I had better not go to the Dursleys?"_

 _"Unless you plan to morph into Voldemort and kill them, I see no reason for you not to go," Dumbledore tried to lighten the mood._

 _Harry couldn't see the humour._

* * *

Harry moaned, his body restlessly twitching in his sleep.

* * *

 _The car turned into the driveway. Harry observed the neat garden covered in a fluffy layer of freshly fallen snow._

 _"Come," his uncle barked coldly._

 _Whatever the actual reason, his uncle certainly hadn't ordered him home because he missed him. He was even colder toward Harry than usual, not having shouted at him, but neither having said two words to him since they met at the station._

 _Harry suspiciously gazed at the house. What if this were a trap? Voldemort would be overjoyed to find Harry had left the school and its plenitude of wards._

Nonsense, _he told himself,_ I am just as well-protected here.

 _But was he really? What if the protection his mother's love was supposed to grant him had been neutralized by his relatives' hatred?_

 _He entered the house and hesitantly looked around. This time, he'd been allowed to keep his wand. Should he take it out?_

 _Uncle Vernon went into the kitchen and simply left Harry standing in the hall. Puzzled, Harry looked after him. This was not how his uncle usually behaved._

Oh, never mind. _Shrugging, he set out for the stairs. Depositing his suitcase in his room, he sat down on the bed. Not five minutes later, he got up again. As long as he had no idea what was going on, he would not be able to relax._

 _"Uncle Vernon?"_

 _He found his relatives gathered in the living room._

 _"Uncle Vernon? Why am I here?" he asked carefully._

 _His uncle pointed him towards an armchair with a nod. His aunt went into the kitchen and returned moments later with a tea service and a plate of biscuits. "Drink." She pushed a cup at him._

 _Harry suspiciously eyed the cup. 'Constant vigilance!' the false Professor Moody's voice boomed in his head._

 _But then he called himself nine times a fool. These were his Muggle relatives, not some servants of Voldemort's! He put the cup to his lips – and hesitated again. Why, why in the world had they ordered him here? Even if it wasn't anything to do with Voldemort, it couldn't possibly be good._

 _Lost in thought and with his eyes fixed on his relatives, he never noticed the three men entering the room behind his back, the thick carpet swallowing the sound of their booted feet. Not until a hand came down across his mouth, another ripping his wand from his pocket lightning-quick, did he know his worst fears had come true._

 _He saw the hand, whose owner was still out of sight behind him, raise his wand and point it at his uncle, who was just vacantly staring straight ahead._ "Avada Kedavra."

 _Harry fought against the hands holding him, but it was no use. They tied him to the chair and forced him to watch helplessly as first his aunt, then his cousin was killed right in front of him. They did not fight back, their cold eyes which should have screamed_ "Imperius" _at Harry if only he'd looked a little more closely now staring lifelessly up at the ceiling._

* * *

"No, don't...!" Harry madly thrashed about with his arms, ripping bloody gauges into the backs of his hands against the rough stone floor, which woke him up for a moment. But he had not slept the previous four nights and before he could gather his wits about him and fully awaken, the nightmare had pulled him back under.

* * *

 _So there he sat, unable to do a thing._

 _Sure, he'd never liked his relatives. But this..._

 _"Are we going to kill Potter now?" he heard one of the men behind him ask. A wand tip was pressed against the back of his neck and he stiffened, sure he would be next._

 _But the other man declined. "_ _Our_ _Lord explicitly ordered us to only kill the Muggles. It appears that we cannot physically harm Potter while inside this dwelling. Actually, we shouldn't even have been able to find the house; it's a good thing McNair owns one of thos_ _e yellow Muggle books.._ _. Though of course our Lord must never be told."_

 _All three of them laughed. Harry sat frozen in his chair and could not believe his ears. His address was hidden from any type of magical_ _locating_ _, but it was printed in a PHONE BOOK?! Really, just how naïve were Dumbledore and his Order?!_

 _"Then what do we do with him?"_

 _"We? Nothing. We'll leave that to the esteemed Minister."_

 _Hope stirred in Harry's chest. Even if he were put on trial, they could not simply throw Harry to the Dementors. Dumbledore would be able to get him released, just like he had done during the summer._

 _One of the men seemed to share that opinion. "The Minister won't just lock Dumbledore's golden boy up and toss away the key, no matter how much he might wish to. They will use Veritaserum. What does our Lord hope to gain from this?"_

 _The other man laughed. "Oh, but who brews the Veritaserum for the Ministry? - Good old Jenkins."_

 _"I see..."_

 _Harry could literally hear the smirk on the Death Eater's face._

 _Again he struggled against his bonds, but in vain. The last thing he heard was a triple_ "Stupefy!" _. Then darkness claimed him._

* * *

"Must... wake up... Wake up … please..."

Harry tossed and turned in the nightmare's clutches, but there was no escape. He was too weakened from the long days of fighting against madness.

* * *

 _"...of course I hate them! Who wouldn't? These disgusting Muggles, defecating their sickly-sweet nonsense into my ears! They aren't worth the dirt underneath my shoes!"_

 _"So you have killed them?"_

No! Of course not! Please, believe me!

 _"Indeed. It was the only thing I could do, really. The Dark Lord is right. It is so very liberating to throw off the shackles of an inferior family..."_

 _Harry saw the disappointment and fury in his friends' faces, saw Molly Weasley clinging to her husband, crying; saw Sirius's face freeze into an emotionless mask and Tonks shaking her head in mute denial. He heard the scratching of dozens of quills and the flash lights of the cameras. Hermione and Ron were hugging each other and crying openly. Ginny seemed close to fainting._

 _It was all so very surreal. He wanted to explain what had happened, wanted to shout out that he hadn't done anything, that Voldemort hat murdered his family._

 _But his tongue would not obey him. Since he had been fed the 'Veritaserum', his tongue answered without his input, his lips moved against his will and spit out one poisonous lie after the other._

 _"...friends with the mudblood? Don't make me laugh..."_

I am in here! Help! I am trapped, let me out! Please!

 _Tears rolled down his cheeks – he was so helpless! - and still his lips were twisted in a condescending smile, belittling everything he had lived for. His parents. His friends. His godfather. Dumbledore. The fight against Voldemort. His wish to avenge his family and Cedric. He ridiculed them all, tore them into little pieces._

 _"...and why should I always be the one to stick out his neck? I won't be forced anymore to bend over backwards just because the rest of the world is too weak to defeat the Lord. I am powerful, so I will rule. It's as easy as that. I will conquer the world as his right-hand man. Tremble before my might! –"_

No, that's not true! It's not true! Just shut up!

 _He wanted to slap his hand before his mouth or, if need be, rip out his traitorous tongue, but he was tied to the chair and unable to move any part of his body besides his head. Indeed, he could not even bang his head against the back of the chair to stop himself; they had tied him up too tightly._

 _And so he had to stand by and do nothing while he dug his own grave, with Voldemort's cold laughter reverberating in the back of his head._

 _Incessantly, the tears streamed down his cheeks. But nobody saw them; they only saw the cold smile, listened to his voice forever condemning him._

 _"Harry, how could you?"_


	4. December 24th, 1997

_(Disclaimer: see first chapter)_

 _ **Beta:** RedButterfly33. I do not always accept all her corrections, though - so any remaining errors are very much this stubborn author's own responsibility. :P_

 _ **Chapter warning:** Mentions of attempted suicide. Also, be warned that I have a rather liberal interpretation of Dementors (the canon explanation of their feeding always rubbed me the wrong way). Also, my approach to Legilimency has a high BS potential..._

* * *

 **3.**

* * *

 _December 24th, 1997_

Harry painfully sat up. He wiped his wet cheeks, then licked his fingers – water was too precious to waste it in this way. Sightlessly, his eyes wandered around his tiny cell of six square meters; the trial once again played out in front of his inner eye.

Not much blame could be laid at Dumbledore's and his friends' door; they had done everything to make sure he got a fair trial. Unfortunately, Voldemort had been one step ahead of them.

Angrily, Harry smashed his fist into the wall. He had been taught to shake off foreign influences, so why the fuck had he failed to overcome this potion? Whatever it was they had given him (he _was_ going to find out!), it had forced his muscles to completely ignore his own will and give voice to someone else's thoughts.

Puzzled, Harry raised his hand which was throbbing painfully. Droplets of blood were glistening upon the skin. _Oh great._ He knew why he usually preferred to avoid sleep. In sleep, he had even less protection against the Dementors' influence, and he often hurt himself during his nightmares.

A shrill whistle caused Harry to raise his head. "Yes, another nightmare," he answered.

The phoenix that had appeared in front of him disapprovingly clacked his beak and touched down on Harry's shoulder. He cocked his head... and cried. The wounds on the back of Harry's hand closed up in no time and the phoenix trilled a few satisfied notes.

"Thanks, mate," Harry grinned. "If I didn't have you..."

 _"Then you'd have killed yourself with those nightmares long since,"_ Fawkes sang jokingly.

Harry gave him a sharp look. "That I would have done, but not only because of the nightmares."

 _"That bad?"_ Fawkes questioned, all humour gone.

"Fawkes, I dreamed of the trial again. Even if I ever got out of here, no one would ever be able to forgive all that I said that day. You were the one to tell me they destroyed all my possessions with one powerful spell. And even Hedwig... they..."

Fawkes looked sadly at the boy. _"Hedwig died a hero's death trying to defend your photo album from the spell."_

"It's all my fault."

Fawkes gave a subdued whistle, the phoenix version of a deep sigh. _"Harry, you've been here an entire year. Don't you think it's time to stop the self-recriminations? They are quite useless. I am only going to tell you again and again that it wasn't your fault."_

Harry smiled gratefully. "Really, Fawkes, if it wasn't for you..."

 _"Don't mention it. By the way, the new tunnel from the Hog's Head* to Hogwarts failed, Dumbledore sent Moody and Shacklebolt and they caught Lestrange in the act."_

"Bellatrix has been captured?"

 _"No, killed. She resisted and fought quite the duel with the Aurors. One of her own curses rebounded on her."_

"Painful?"

 _"Very."_

"Good."

Fawkes cocked his head again. _"What was with you and Bellatrix, anyway?"_

Harry's face hardened. "She nearly killed Sirius. It was only because he wasn't welcome on the other side of the curtain that he survived."

 _"What curtain?"_

"In the Ministry's Department of Mysteries. It's a kind of gateway – or so an Unspeakable told me after Sirius was spat back out by the thing – for an 'elegant escape', though not in the way Sirius accidentally tried to use it..."

 _"How else, then?"_

"It is an offer to suicide risks. They stand in front of it, and if they feel pulled towards the gate, it means they are going to end their lives soon. Instead, they can step through the doorway and find a kind of peace on the other side – he did not say how – and think about their life. Once they are ready to tackle their life head-on once more, they return. However..."

 _"What?"_

"There's a reason why the archway was locked away in a far-off room nowadays. It seems that more than a dozen test subjects already stepped through, but Sirius was the only person to ever return, and it took him a week."

 _"Oh."_

"And he was so out of it... like he'd been smoking weed the entire week he was there..."

 _"Oh."_

"You know... when I stood in front of that archway, I was extremely tempted to pull aside the curtain and step through," Harry said in a small voice.

 _"Would you still do that now?"_

"I don't know... When the Dementors pass by my cell, I see Cedric dying, hear my Mum and Dad die, or I see myself throwing back their kindness in everyone's faces in the courtroom. It hurts. Then I often wonder if it wouldn't be better to give up this pathetic excuse for a life I still have here.

"Then again I sometimes think they should have known me better. I mean, I've fought against Voldemort for five years. How could they truly believe I'd done a 180 all of a sudden and joined old Snake Face?!"

 _"You know why."_

Harry sighed. He did know. He had always carefully kept his emotions under lock and key in order to avoid getting hurt. He had never gone straight to his friends or Professor Dumbledore with his problems, but often waited until it was nearly too late. Like the time he'd heard the basilisk in second year, or the nightmares Voldemort had sent him during his fifth year...

He had never fully trusted anyone. Then how could he expect complete trust from others?

Hedwig had been the only exception. Harry had loved his owl since the first day and that love had been returned. Fawkes, too, he had liked from their first meeting, and the bird had since proven to be his most loyal friend.

He had not believed in Harry's guilt and even fought with Dumbledore about it. But due to the overwhelming evidence against Harry, his arguments had fallen on deaf ears. 'Wishful thinking,' they'd said. Everyone just wanted to put the 'Harry Potter' episode behind them as quickly as possible, preferably cross it out of their lives entirely.

One week after Harry's incarceration, Fawkes was his first and only visitor. By that time, the boy had already tried to punch open his wrists with a spoon, to smash his head in against the wall, and to strangle himself – all quite without success.

Fawkes's presence had let him know that he was neither alone nor crazy. And the phoenix had made sure things stayed that way.

Harry's love for birds had driven the phoenix to bring him a book about animagic and practise with him. Animagic was based in wild magic and therefore could be used without a wand. Much to both of their joy, Harry had managed the transformation after several months and, beyond their wildest hopes, his animagus form indeed turned out to be a phoenix. Ever since, he had been able to converse with Fawkes.

It had only taken a few weeks for him to begin understanding the language even while in human form. And so he had daily conversations with the phoenix who loyally kept him company and talked to him about his problems, the nightmares and the guilt, but also about recent developments in the wizarding world and about his friends.

Harry was incredibly thankful to the phoenix. He knew that without his visits, he'd long have died of despair or succumbed to madness. Only with Fawkes's help could he hold on to reality and even keep alive a tiny spark of hope that maybe, just maybe, he'd get out of here one day.

Until then he wanted to keep trying not to nurture any resentment for the wizarding world that had cast him out. And to continue his fight against Voldemort.

The proximity of the Dementors enhanced all unpleasant things in Harry's head and kept them constantly on his mind. But his connection to Voldemort was certainly one of those unpleasant things.

Voldemort apparently still sat at the upper end of the connection; Harry could only receive, not send anything; but he was now able to choose how much he received.

His mind was wide open and received each of Voldemort's emotions, vibrated with his tempers, trembled under his curses... and listened to his plans. A visit into Voldemort's mind was always a painful affair, yet Harry now had a lot more control over the length and type of excursion into that sick mind. What Snape had failed to teach him, he had learned upon the cold stones of Azkaban.

The trick was not to hide things from the other; a Legilimens would look precisely for those things. No, instead he needed to show his emotions, thoughts and ideas so clearly that the other was crushed by the avalanche of information and automatically closed his receptors in self-defence.

This was done sub-consciously, and so it appeared to the attacker that his victim's mind was closed; even though this was more true of his own mind at that point.

Harry had discovered this his first night in Azkaban. He had accidentally entered Voldemort's mind in his dreams and was noticed by the other wizard right when two Dementors walked by outside his cell. Harry had not time to react and all his panic and despair rushed down their connection at the Dark Lord.

Harry felt a short flash of pleased approval of his pain from the other end – then the connection suddenly broke. In his moment of weakness, Harry had involuntarily bombarded Voldemort with information to the point where his brain refused to take in any more. For Voldemort it must have seemed as though Harry had blocked him.

Once Harry understood this, he had thrown himself into a rigid training aimed at vehemently throwing his entire being at Voldemort, leaving him without any chance of reading anything in Harry's mind or messing with it like he had done in the past.

As soon as Harry was confident in his accomplishments, he ventured further. He was capable of blocking Voldemort; now it was time to strike back.

Unfortunately, this task turned out to be a lot harder. Harry was now able to reject a connection he did not want – such as when Voldemort was _crucio_ ing someone to death – but if he accepted the connection, it still came with intense pain for Harry whenever Voldemort spoke an Unforgivable.

Harry had taken to carefully testing the waters, as it were, like one would dip a toe into water to test the temperature before letting one's entire body fall in. He tested Voldemort's mood and only entered his mind when he wasn't in the process of cursing anyone. Thus he could save himself a lot of pain, enabling him to stay calm enough that Voldemort did not notice him.

But still he was incapable of manipulating Voldemort's mind the way the Dark Lord had manipulated his the previous year.

 _"What's on your mind?"_

Fawkes was still perched on Harry's shoulder and had waited patiently while Harry was lost in thought.

"I am trying to puzzle out how Voldemort was able to change my dreams through my scar, while I cannot influence him at all."

 _"Wonderful."_

"Erm... excuse me?"

Fawkes chuckled. Harry was strangely reminded of the headmaster. _"It is wonderful that you are working on a puzzle rather than bathing in self-recriminations."_

Harry smiled sheepishly. "I guess you're right."

 _"But of course."_

"Not conceited at all, are you." A quick grin.

 _"Phoenixes are beautiful, intelligent, popular and brave. Everyone knows this, so no conceit is necessary – these are facts."_ Fawkes strutted down Harry's extended arm like a peacock. Harry watched him speechlessly for a moment – then he broke out in peals of laughter.

Entirely unnoticed by him, a Dementor turned tail in front of his cell and ran. This much hilarity was physically painful for the cool creature.

Fawkes shook his head, making the boldly erect feathers on his head dance merrily. _"Harry, it's good to hear you laugh!"_

"Oh Fawkes, how could I not! That, at least, I think I will not forget how to do as long as you're there."

 _"You can count on me, Harry. The only days I shall ever fail to visit you will be the three days after my burning when I am featherless and stationary. Only afterwards will I once again be strong enough to come visit you."_

"I am so happy that the wards of Azkaban only keep humans from apparating in and out. You are free to come and go..." A dreamy expression entered Harry's eyes. "If I was a true phoenix, I could simply vanish from here just like you."

Unfortunately, despite having the animagus form of a powerful magical being, even as a phoenix he was limited for the most part to the powers he possessed in human form. Fawkes thought he might manage to complete a phoenix apparition. After all, his tears held some minimal healing properties - they had tested them on Harry's countless scrapes and frostbites - but even then, in his core he'd still be human and as such subject to the wards.

Harry had once joked that he could set himself on fire, hoping that his ashes would be carried outside by the cool wind forever whistling through the fortress's hallways, and rise from his ashes.

Fawkes hadn't been amused. Harry had dropped the topic with a shrug.

 _Haven't got any matches anyway._

* * *

 _*This was written before the publication of the Deathly Hallows, that's why the idea of a tunnel from the Hog's Head to Hogwarts is presented as a new idea the DEs thought up rather than established fact._


	5. April 16th, 1998

_(Disclaimer: see first chapter)  
_

 _Beta: RedButterfly33. Thank you! :D_

 _mandancie, thank you for the lone review... you and Red keep me going! ; )_

* * *

 **4.**

* * *

 _April 16th, 1998_

Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk, lost in thought, when Fawkes appeared in a red flame. He was just returning from his daily visit with the Great Stranger. If Dumbledore didn't know he was above such emotions, he would have realized that he was jealous of Fawkes's mysterious informant, since he had Fawkes to himself for such a long time each day. After all, Fawkes was Dumbledore's familiar! Surely he could expect, then, that Fawkes spent more time with him than with some stranger whose identity Fawkes was loath to reveal even after one and a half years.

"Well, found your way home, did you?" he greeted the bird stroppily.

 _"I have no time for your childishness just now, Albus! You have to come with me, it's a matter of life and death!"_

Dumbledore was up and moving at once. "Who? Where?"

Fawkes hesitated for a moment and looked indecisively at his familiar. _"This concerns my informant... You now have the once-in-a-lifetime chance to meet him, for he has just started convulsing and I cannot get a single word out of him. If he dies, you will not get any further information_ _from him_ _... also, I might_ _join_ _him_ _in death_ _."_

"WHAT?!" The only thing that could kill a phoenix was the deepest emotional distress, of the kind usually not even felt at the death of their familiars. WHO was this stranger?

"Take me to him!"

Fawkes extended a wing, Dumbledore took hold of it and they vanished in a fiery flash.

Dumbledore's eyes widened when he took in his location. "Your contact works in Azkaban?"

Fawkes did not answer, wordlessly dragging him instead to the little boat that would carry them over to the prison. _"Hurry, or he might die!"_

Dumbledore was extremely surprised, but he obediently boarded the bark and whipped it into a frenzied pace akin to a power boat with his magic.

He passed the Dementors guarding the entrance unhindered; as the Chief Warlock, he was free to enter any public institutions as he pleased. He followed Fawkes along one endless, dark hallway after the other, down to the high-security wing. It was a cold, dismal environment that caused Dumbledore extreme unease every single time, never failing to remind him of the days he had spent in Grindelwald's dungeon before he managed to free himself and defeat the black sorcerer in a last, epic duel.

 _Just like Harry Potter should have defeated Voldemort. Where did it all go wrong?_

Why was he thinking of the boy just now?

 _Of course, he must also be somewhere down here. Brrr... to think he was only sixteen years old... Wait. Convulsions? High-security wing? Secret information that only Voldemort himself should be privy to?_

Dumbledore was anything but stupid, and yet it was only now he realized what he had long suspected, but simply refused to accept.

"Fawkes? _Who_ are you taking me to?"

" _We are nearly there_ ," the phoenix evaded the question. Phoenixes could not lie, but whoever said they could not withhold information if they so desired?

Dumbledore kept running after his familiar. Now he could hear a soft sound which rose in volume with every step he took, swelling to an ear-shattering roar. It carried such pain as no human should ever be subjected to.

Then the wild hunt ended. Fawkes was hovering before a cell in which a presumably once-human being was twisting and thrashing about on the floor, screaming as though it was being drawn and quartered. Fawkes spared his familiar a quick glance before apparating inside the bars. He flew right above the prisoner and tried to hover in place there. Then he started crying, and singing a song of hope and love.

Dumbledore stood frozen in front of the cell. Never in all their time together had Fawkes shown such intense emotion. Hot phoenix tears fell upon the man on the ground, moistening his face, his hands, his hair. But the man did not notice. The strongest antidote the world knew had absolutely no effect on the poison that had befallen this man.

And then Dumbledore understood.

With lightning speed, he drew his wand, vanishing two of the bars and stepping through. He knelt down next to convulsing figure, drew back his arm - and backhanded the man with all his might.

* * *

Harry came to with a feeble wail of pain. Foggily he tried to remember what had happened. He had... he'd done it. For the first time, he had attacked Voldemort's mind! But the retaliation had been terrible.

How had he escaped? Voldemort had taken a firm hold of his consciousness and inflicted an unending series of mental _Crucios_ upon him. He could never have freed himself from that.

"Fawkes?" he croaked hoarsely. _Oh, looks like I've been screaming again._ "Fawkes, mate, 're you there?" He opened one swollen eye and blinked.

"Shite, glasses are broken. For good this time, I s'pose. Doesn't fucking matter, 's not like there's anything to see around here anyway..." Harry mumbled while he squinted, trying to recognize his friend. For who else would have pulled him back?

A propos... He had to tell Fawkes of his discovery right away!

Harry did not notice that he was lying on something soft, or that he was not alone with Fawkes. The phoenix was just touching down and came to stand on the cold stone floor right in front of Harry. "Oh, there you are, silly chicken," Harry teased, still hoarse as a barker.

 _"Are you playing the hero again?"_ Fawkes shot back.

Dumbledore watched with his eyes opened wide in disbelief as the young man grinned at the bird as though he'd understood his comeback. "You know me," was his answer, "That Gryffindor idiocy is a part of me like the skin on my back, and you don't easily shake that off... though it very much felt like it, just now." He squinted again, this time in pain. "Fucking _Cruciatus_."

 _"A Cruciatus? Here?"_

Harry paused a moment in his struggle to sit up to throw a disapproving glance at the phoenix. "Obviously not, you stupid ball of fluff! ...Sorry, I didn't mean that. I'm just in a seriously bad mood. Hell, this stings!" He absent-mindedly rubbed at his forehead. "No, _here_ , of course! The scar! – Would you believe it, I actually did it! For the first time ever! I struck back!"

Dumbledore did not understand a single word. He had helped Harry to sit up without the completely disoriented young wizard even noticing. Now he was sitting behind the boy, peering at his dishevelled mop of hair, which was energetically wobbling to and fro despite the obvious headache, while a trembling hand was raised to his lips to wipe off spittle and a fleck of vomit.

Dumbledore listened with great astonishment as Fawkes shed some light on the convicted murderer's words. _"Are you trying to tell me you successfully attacked Voldemort's mind? You finally managed not only to listen in, but to interfere?"_

"Yes, isn't it great?"

 _"How did you do it?"_

Harry was radiating energy and self-confidence, despite the fact that he hadn't yet been fed that day and had just been subjected to a mental _Crucio_ for close to a half-hour.

 _These young people...,_ Dumbledore thought, thoroughly rattled.

"I believe it is impossible to attack without anger. Until now, I only wanted to stop him, but, stupid though it may sound, amicably. It was only when I was ready to do serious damage to him - as he is always doing to others - that I could influence his thoughts. I have distracted him long enough that he - Oh my God!"

Harry broke off and blanched up to his hair roots.

Fawkes did not appear to notice, he had been looking at Dumbledore, trying to gauge his reaction. " _What triggered your anger? You are not usually a violent person,"_ he said, his eyes still on Dumbledore.

Harry suddenly grabbed Fawkes's leg and pulled him very close. Fawkes gave a startled squawk, but then grew still upon seeing Harry's intense look and the pale face.

 _"Harry?"_

"You need to go to Dumbledore at once! Tell him he has to go to the Burrow! Molly is in danger!"

"Excuse me?!"

Harry jumped in surprise and let go of Fawkes before connecting painfully with the stone floor. He rubbed gingerly at his chin, as always completely ignorant of the fact that his hand was getting smeared with blood in the process, and stared at the man who had appeared behind him seemingly out of nowhere.

"Dumbledore? Professor? – How long have you been here?" He frantically turned around without waiting for an answer. "Fawkes! You promised not to betray me! How could you?!"

 _"HEY! I thought you were DYING!"_

"Nonsense. If I was that easy to kill, I would not have survived my first year at school. No, wait, I wouldn't even have made it to school... Fuck it all, the only thing that matters is that you tell Dumbledore that - ah, no, he is here, after all - well - and... - FAWKES, why did you bring him here? Now he isn't going to believe you any more!" Desperately unhappy, he looked at the phoenix, completely ignoring the other wizard at his side.

 _"Yes he will, Harry. Have a little more faith in me, will you?"_ Fawkes whistled irritably.

"Faith?" Harry snapped. "How could I? To this day, every single time I had faith in another person, I lived to regret it. Admittedly, I had begun to hope that with you, it would be different; after all, you are a bird, I like that about you, and you never lied to me. But that you brought HIM" - he pointed to Dumbledore - "here, just now, I will never forgive you!"

And in front of Dumbledore's shocked eyes, the black-haired wizard broke down and cried with great, racking sobs.

"Harry," Dumbledore addressed him, "what did you mean to tell me about Molly?"

Harry raised his head, a tiny spark of hope glittering in his reddened eyes. "Sir, are you even going to believe me?"

"I do not know," Dumbledore said earnestly, "but you lose nothing in trying."

Harry threw a despairing glance at Fawkes before nodding sharply. "True.

"Alright. Listen well, Dumbledore. Voldemort is at the Burrow. Mister Weasley is on his way home, when he arrives, he will be in danger as well. Ron and Gin are at school, the twins... At any rate, Mrs. Weasley is currently home alone. Malfoy has stunned her and begun to torture her. Voldemort was just about to speak the _Avada_ himself when I finally brought down the barrier and attacked him. With any luck, he will be weakened now. But, whatever the case, you HAVE to save Mrs. Weasley. PLEASE!"

Dumbledore looked into the pleading eyes of the young man in front of him. "Harry, didn't you say you couldn't stand the Weasleys?"

The look from the green eyes turned to stone. "There was no Veritaserum in that phial, old man. It was _Arsendictum_!"

Dumbledore looked at the boy, speechless. If this were true...!

"Fawkes, we need to go! Molly is in danger! Gather the Order!" He stepped out of the cell, hastily making the bars reappear and once more turning to Harry. "I will make sure your case is reopened, Harry, you will hear from me tomorrow, and -"

"Just GO! Dammit, we don't have time for this!"

Dumbledore fell silent, nodded once, then turned around and ran.

* * *

 _A/N: Red pointed out that Harry has some extreme mood swings in this chapter. True, he does. To me, that seemed a fairly natural reaction when thrown into such a totally unexpected situation right after having been mentally Crucioed by Voldemort for nearly half an hour, and all this on top of his generally bad Azkabanian health. If you disagree, please let me know! :P_


	6. April 20th, 1998

_(Disclaimer: see first chapter)_

 _ **Beta:** RedButterfly33. Thanks! :D_

 _ **A/N:** A big thank you to mandancie and emthereble for the lovely reviews! :)_

* * *

 **5.**

* * *

 _April 20th, 1998_

Harry restlessly paced his cell. He had received a full bowl of gruel in the morning, and the abundance of food had given him surplus energy that only served to raise his anxiety.

It had been four days since Dumbledore came to visit. Harry had been counting the minutes on that first day in order not to miss the beginning of the following day, on which Dumbledore had promised to return.

But Dumbledore hadn't come.

And Fawkes had failed to show, as well. For the first time since his very first visit, a week after Harry's conviction, Fawkes had failed to come to him. Harry neither knew what had happened at the Weasleys', nor could he be sure that Dumbledore was indeed championing a revision of his case. He was, as usual, left entirely in the dark. And, also as usual, no one seemed inclined to change that.

It had always bothered him, but this time, it was worse than ever. He had gotten used to Fawkes being there for him. The magical bird had become his light and hope in the dark months at Azkaban.

And now he was gone.

First, Harry had put it down to the excitement he must have caused with his latest news. Surely, rescuing the Weasleys had claimed everyone's full attention and Fawkes must have been busy that entire day.

The second day could be explained that way, as well - even though Fawkes had promised him he would always come to visit, unless he had just had a Burning Day. Then, it would take three days... Very well, so that must be the reason, then.

The third day came and went. Harry consoled himself with the thought that Fawkes had been looking rather sickly lately and probably had burned. Three days it would take for him to fly and apparate again. Nervous, insecure, but still hopeful, Harry leaned back against the icy wall on the evening of that third day, as always fighting sleep, which was bringing him worse nightmares than ever now that Fawkes had gone missing.

But the fourth day was drawing to a close, and still there was no word from Fawkes.

Harry did not want to give up, did not want to give in to the fear that had become a deeply ingrained part of him ever since his arrest, if not before. He did not want to believe that even Fawkes had betrayed him.

But how else could he explain the phoenix's absence?

Fawkes had brought Dumbledore to him against Harry's explicit wishes. And had not returned to him since. Dumbledore's words were rattling around in Harry's head: _"I_ _will make sure your case is reopened, Harry, you will hear from me tomorrow..._ _you will hear from me tomorrow... tomorrow..."_

'Tomorrow' had been three days ago. Dumbledore had lied to him. He was not going to help him.

Maybe he had forbidden Fawkes from continuing to see him. _I knew it would have been better not to tell Dumbledore. Why did he have to bring him here?!_ Or had Fawkes decided on his own that he didn't want to come visit Harry any more? Maybe Harry's mental attack had weakened Voldemort enough for the Order to finally defeat him?

 _Then the prophecy would indirectly have been fulfilled... And now they no longer need me. Who'd hang out in a cold dungeon anyway if instead they could be celebrating outside underneath the open sky?_ The idea that Fawkes might have only visited him regularly in order to gain information on Voldemort hurt; yet it was impossible to dismiss. And with every passing hour, it took hold more firmly in his head.

Betrayed.

As he had so often been. Why did he let himself be taken in by people again and again? Had he still not learned his lesson? Well, Fawkes was a phoenix; he could count that in his favour. Harry had stopped trusting in humans, but hadn't given up on animals yet. But it appeared now that magical creatures were just as untrustworthy as humans, after all.

And if the trustworthiness of wizards and Muggles were any index of magical and mundane animals, he would probably do well in the future to trust animals of any kind as little as he did humans.

Was it like this for everyone? Or did this just happen to him because he was Harry Potter?

Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore appeared before his inner eye, conferring about Voldemort's plans; Arthur and Molly Weasley, hugging; Hermione and Ron, squabbling, only to make up afterwards... Yes, there was faith and trust in the world. And it even seemed that other people could afford it.

Just not him.

 _Of course, why should anyone tell the Boy Who Lived the truth about anything? Just make sure he's kept functional. As long as he'll still hex Voldemort to the Happy Hunting Grounds, it doesn't matter how he personally feels about things, right?_

Harry's lips tightened into a thin line. They all should have known better. Ron, Hermione, Hagrid, Dumbledore - how could any of them have believed he would ever switch to Voldemort's side? He hated the man!

They had not trusted him.

Fawkes had said he'd never inspired great trust, what with his secretiveness and all. Should he have poured out his heart to them? Would he not be here now if he had?

He snorted. _Oh sure, because they so would have believed me! Just like the adults believed me in first year when I warned them about someone wanting to steal the Stone?_

 _In my second year, I DID confide in Ron and Hermione - resulting in them thinking me crazy!_

 _My third year brought about Sirius, living proof that I can trust neither the Ministry nor my teachers..._

 _And in fourth year, Dumbledore permitted that I compete in the Tournament. And Ron ended our friendship out of jealousy,_ once again _not believing me when I told him the truth!_

 _Fifth year, there were those useless Occlumency lessons with Snape Dumbles forced on me despite my affirmations that it was no good at all; later, he even told me outright that he DIDN'T TRUST ME ENOUGH to teach me himself - for just because it says Harry on the cover doesn't mean it contains Harry, right?* After all, could be Voldemort looking out of my eyes._

 _Argh, how I despise them all! None of them ever truly took me seriously. Why am I still waiting for Dumbles, anyway? With the wonderful friends I have at Hogwarts, I might as well radio Voldemort to please get me out..._

Unnerved, Harry wiped his face with his hand. Wonderful! Next, he would probably consider joining Voldemort. The only thing missing would be an intimate friendship with Malfoy and Snape. He grinned mirthlessly.

 _Before I join Voldemort, I'll have another go with that spoon..._

* * *

 _*Allusion to the German Nutella ad that goes something like "For only if it reads Nutella on the cover there will be Nutella inside". Did they run that ad in English, as well? I couldn't find anything on it._


	7. April 21st, 1998

_**A/N** : As always, many thanks to my wonderful beta RedButterfly33 and to last chapter's reviewers - mandancie, misteeirene, bubblecloudz and the unnamed other - love you! ^^ Now, on to the chapter... _

_**Warning:** torture. _

* * *

**6.**

* * *

 _April 21st, 1998_

Harry was trembling. Sitting in a corner of his cell, arms tightly wrapped around his knees, he was slowly swaying back and forth. Since Fawkes had betrayed him, he was back to feeling as despondent and lonely as he had in his first week at Azkaban. No, more so: for it was worse to hope and be disappointed than never to have hoped. Now Harry was disillusioned, hurt and dispirited.

The Dementors, who had mostly left him be while Fawkes was regularly cheering him up, now came back with great interest. At the moment, five of the veiled creatures were standing in front of his cell, sucking up his despair. It was a feast to them.

 _Not Harry... Not Harry...!_

Had his mother truly loved him that much? Were she and his father the only people in this world who wouldn't have betrayed him? Or was he maybe mis-remembering things? Perhaps Dumbledore had implanted those memories to tie Harry more strongly to the sight of the light?

 _Crucio!_

Harry again felt the pain that had been inflicted upon him in the graveyard, remembered Cedric's surprised, uncomprehending face as he was hit with the killing curse. No, however Dumbledore might have manipulated him, he still hated Voldemort.

And even if it weren't for the many dead, he had plenty of reason to hate the dark wizard for his own sake. Without Voldemort, his life might have taken an entirely different course. Not famous, neither loved nor feared, no pressure, just himself... Harry lacked the time to further pursue the pleasant thought, for already the next terrible memory was forcing itself on him.

Curling up even more tightly, he quietly started to whimper.

* * *

He could not have said how many days had passed. But something had changed.

After five days without sleep, unconsciousness had finally claimed Harry; or, to be more precise, he had slid seamlessly from one of his horrid memories into a nightmare from which his exhausted body had not let him wake for a long time.

But now he was awake, and something had definitely changed. But what?

He looked around sleepily and with a very tense neck. He must have screamed and thrashed about in his sleep again, for his throat was aching and the backs of his hands were once more smeared with blood.

Slowly, his eyes found some focus without his glasses and he inquisitively looked around. Finally, he discovered what was different: the Dementors no longer stood at his door.

 _Thank God... or Merlin... Although - whoever might be out there, why do you hate me so? Why do I have to be grateful to wake from a nightmare only to find myself once more in a dark, damp cell, without breakfast or hope for a future?_

Grumbling, he sat up and leaned back against the wall. This was shaping up to be another dazzlingly fine day...

A noise he had not heard in... what was it, maybe a week?... had him jerking to his feet, all muscles tensed and his ears strained to the limit. No doubt, these were footsteps. _Dumbledore! He's c_ _ome_ _after all!_

But it was not Dumbledore stepping up to his cell a minute later.

It was a Death Eater.

Harry did not recognize the man, for he had not lifted his mask. Nor could he place the voice when the Death Eater spoke.

"Potter. Our Lord has conquered Azkaban. You now have a choice: will you join him?"

Harry had not retreated - where to, anyway? - and was meeting the Death Eater's eyes with feigned indifference. "I suppose if I don't have an intense death wish, I had better say _Yes_ now?"

The man nodded with a smirk mostly hidden underneath the mask.

"No."

The smirk widened. "Nice try. _Stupefy!_ "

* * *

 _"Enervate!"_

Harry jerked awake.

He found himself in the prison's great entrance hall. Death Eaters stood all around him, their black hooded cloaks rustling with their nervous motions. Some of them kept disappearing into Azkaban's many hallways, only to return moments later with newly liberated prisoners to be presented to their Lord.

Voldemort was seated at the front side of the hall on a black throne his servants had created out of the castle's stones with their magic. Standing in front of him at the moment was a man with matted, long brown hair, whose torn and dirty clothes proved that he had been on the island longer than Harry.

The Dark Lord narrowed his red, reptilian eyes and rummaged around in the inmate's mind. He seemed to like what he found, for he took hold of the man's left arm, and without asking the inmate a single question or giving any explanations, he burned his mark into it.

Next up was Mr. Leigh. This time, Voldemort refrained from using his mind magic.

"Leigh, I hear that you had some truly touching last words for your wife at your trial."

The man, already a shivering bundle of nerves, moaned softly.

"It would appear that you only joined me in order to protect your wife; not a very honest motivation, I must say." A lipless grin was further disfiguring the Snake Lord's ugly face.

Leigh's trembling increased. "My Lord, I have never done anything to disappoint you. I truly tried to fulfil your tasks to the best of my ability and -"

"- and failed pitifully," Voldemort finished the sentence for him. "You see, this is precisely why I have no use for followers lacking proper motivation: they do not work conscientiously enough. I have no faith in your abilities, Leigh, nor in your loyalty. _Avada Kedavra._ "

The words, although uttered in a casual and seemingly bored voice, did not fail to work. Leigh dropped like a stone and his body was banished by one of the Death Eaters soon after that.

"Bring the boy."

Harry felt a harsh shove in his back and stumbled forward. His hands had been tied behind his back and he had trouble keeping his balance. He came to an ungainly stop in front of Voldemort's throne, looking up at his enemy with eyes full of hatred.

"Potter." Voldemort gave him a mocking nod.

"Riddle," he answered no less mockingly.

Voldemort frowned, but did not otherwise react to the provocation. "Potter. As you see, I have conquered Azkaban. Next, I plan to subjugate Hogsmeade, and from there, finally march on Hogwarts. Once Hogwarts has fallen, the Ministry will be easy prey.

"I am strong enough to handle this task on my own; still, I will have your participation. Once the Aurors and Dumbledore's pathetic little Order see you by my side, they will be that much easier to defeat.

"What do you say to my offer?"

Harry shrugged. "You do not truly expect me to leap for joy, do you?"

Voldemort considered him with narrowed eyes. "Well, a little gratefulness for sparing your life and even giving you a rank among my followers that many of them will envy you for does seem appropriate."

Harry barked a short laugh. "Yeah, right. Is that all?"

Voldemort's frown deepened. "I do not like your tone, boy. _Crucio!_ "

The curse did not catch Harry unawares, but how does one prepare for a Cruciatus? All he could do was clench his teeth and hope for a swift death.

Yet Voldemort would not let him die that easily.

After Harry had thrashed about on the floor screaming for several minutes, the Dark Lord interrupted the curse and watched with some fascination as a tiny rivulet of blood spilled from the corner of his young adversary's mouth.

"You will learn some manners yet." While Harry laboriously pushed himself back up into a sitting position, he continued. "But for now, it is more important to ensure you will not turn against me or against yourself if I hand you a wand.

"Of course I could keep you under a permanent Imperius; but since that curse does not present a reliable obstacle to you, this option appears too insecure and would be too much work for so little gain. Another option would be to simply kill you now and let a Double appear in your place; however, the magical signature could give away the scam. Furthermore, I might have tried blackmailing you, but unfortunately, you managed to protect the Weasley mother from me. By now, it has become nigh on impossible to gain access to any of your friends -"

Harry snorted derisively.

"- to kidnap them. What amuses you so?"

Harry kept silent. Voldemort looked into his eyes and mumbled: _"Legilimens."_

A fight of several minutes followed, but Harry was weakened and also fairly resigned. So it was that Voldemort finally leaned back, satisfied, and broke off the connection. "Well, well. So your friends did not fight for you at all, when I made you a criminal? How amusing. Say, don't you sometimes just want to take your revenge against them for all the injustice they inflicted upon you?" He smirked maliciously.

Harry stared at him blankly. How could this monster even think he would turn completely against his former friends and join _him_? Him, who was primarily responsible for all of Harry's misfortune!

On the other hand, Harry knew now that Voldemort would not simply kill him or let him go. One way or another, he would get Harry to turn traitor for him. Wouldn't it be better, then, to appear to be doing it willingly?

Then again, Harry wasn't entirely sure he truly had to play-act all that much.

His friends _had_ betrayed him.

"You could take vengeance against everyone who disappointed you. Are you not tempted?"

Harry continued staring blankly straight ahead, but inside him, chaos reigned. Dumbledore, his friends, all of Hogwarts, yes the entire wizarding world had deported him to Azkaban. No-one had stood by him. Even Fawkes, whom he had truly taken for a friend, had ultimately stabbed him in the back.

Betrayed.

Abandoned.

Worthless.

Harry felt reminded of his childhood at Privet Drive. Had he no more worth for the wizarding world than he did for his relatives? There had been a time he would have answered his own question at once with a firm "But I do!" Now, he wasn't so sure.

However, the opposite side had deeply wronged him, too. There was Voldemort who had bereft him of his parents. Bellatrix Lestrange, who nearly murdered Sirius - she had received her just punishment, though. Who else? Malfoy. Draco Malfoy, who had made his life hell throughout Harry's six years at Hogwarts. Malfoy had continuously mobbed him, endangered his life repeatedly and raised other students against him.

It was in that very moment another Death Eater entered the hall, herding none other than the blond Malfoy heir. Harry registered with some surprise that Malfoy was dressed in the same worn and dirty prisoner's garb as himself. _Probably tried to follow in his father's footsteps and stumbled,_ he thought with grim humour.

"Will I also be able to take revenge upon those who have harmed me on your behest?" he asked, lost in thought, his eyes fixed on Malfoy.

If he had to prove he was able to torture, maybe even kill another human being like any good little Death Eater, he could at least make sure the victim was someone he didn't like.

He was thoroughly startled when Voldemort replied with a pleased tone: "But of course! As my personal field marshal, you will stand above the other Death Eaters and minor supporters. You may do to them whatever you deem necessary - except, of course, killing them. That would surely diminish my ranks awfully fast... Well, do you like the idea of having that much power?"

Could he have afforded it, Harry would have laughed out loud. He, who hated attention and had been disgusted for years with the responsibility laid upon his much-too-young shoulders, was now to be the leader of the Dark Army when they went into battle? _He_ , whom the Death Eaters had used for target practice with their dark curses not two years ago, was now to lead these unscrupulous murderers? How did anyone come up with such entirely brainless ideas?

But far be it from him to complain. Until now, Voldemort had made no move to take a magical fealty oath or otherwise bind him. The bitterness against his friends and Dumbledore the Dark Lord had read in Harry's mind appeared to have sufficiently convinced him that Harry would not ever go back to the sight of light.

Of light... Would Harry even be able to rejoin that side, given the choice? The side of those who had betrayed and condemned him?

He was no Muggle-hating, crazy dark wizard; however, neither was he a naïve little boy loyal to Dumbledore any longer, who blindly followed where his professor led. He was caught betwixt and between. Neither side currently had his trust. And neither would welcome him with open arms. Voldemort certainly wasn't going to just return his magic to him without restrictions. How far was Harry willing to go?

He still wanted to destroy Voldemort. Both the prophecy and his parents' unavenged murder demanded it. But was he able, in order to reach this goal, to enter into Voldemort's service, where he would have to torture and kill innocents?

Trapped in his musings, Harry never noticed that Malfoy had by now arrived next to him and was fearfully looking back and forth between Harry and Voldemort. Only when Voldemort spoke again was he torn from his thoughts.

"I can brand you with the Dark Mark with or without your consent. However, I have had some unpleasant experiences with forced initiations in the past. It appears the mark is only truly binding if accepted fully form the start. I have no use for more traitors." He sneered at the spot from which Leigh's lifeless body had been banished just minutes ago.

"I'd rather have you join me of your own free will. I shall give you a week's respite. During this week, you will have possession of a wand. You will be joining on some trial raids and prove yourself. You will only address me with 'My Lord'. I will be watching you. If you do not strain my trust too much, you will be mine by the end of the week.

"Now let us start your first test. Have you ever cast an Unforgivable?"

Harry was afraid he knew exactly where this conversation was going. But he could not escape this by keeping silent, so he answered truthfully: "I only ever attempted the Cruciatus, and it did not work well for me... My Lord."

"Well, we shall have to work on that, won't we? - Parkinson, give him your wand!"

The Death Eater who had 'kidnapped' Harry from his cell hesitantly extended his wand to him. Harry took it and expectantly looked up at Voldemort.

"Very good, Potter. Show me what you can do." He pointed at Malfoy, looking at Harry with an evil grin.

Harry uneasily turned towards his former classmate. He had never liked Malfoy and told himself he was the perfect victim to convince Voldemort of Harry's ability to cast dark magic spells. Now, however, that the other was actually standing in front of him, looking at Harry with widened eyes...

Malfoy opened his lips and hesitantly started to speak. "Potter, wait. You don't understand..."

"Shut the fuck up. _Silencio!_ " Heavens, it would be hard enough to cast an Unforgivable as it was! Did Malfoy have to throw him for a loop now with that pleading tone? Malfoy was supposed to be spiteful and nasty, as he'd always been in the past.

Meanwhile, Voldemort had watched Harry's harsh gesture with pleasure. All the signs pointed towards the Boy Who Lived making a great Death Eater. If now he mastered the Unforgivables, he might even be useful as more than just a trophy.

"Potter, I am waiting."

Harry suppressed the urge to gulp noisily and instead closed his eyes to shut out Malfoy's frightened face. He focused deliberately on all the insults, curses and lies the Slytherin had inflicted upon him from their first day at school. He thought of Buckbeak's trial, Malfoy's correspondence with Skeeter; the blond's father, who had coldly laughed at him that night in the graveyard... who served Voldemort...

At the thought of the Dark Lord, he finally felt the rage rising inside him that he needed for this curse. He concentrated on that rage until it was flowing through him like hot lava. Then he opened his eyes and pointed the wand at Malfoy.

 _"Crucio."_

Harry's pent-up rage flew out the wand tip as though it had only waited for this opportunity.

Draco Malfoy's knees instantly gave way. He fell down heavily and began to thrash about on the floor, screaming and twitching.

Harry tried to ignore the tortured screams. Only by denying that it was him inflicting such pain upon a human being right now could he keep up the spell and prove himself to Voldemort. If he broke this off now, the entire farce would have been for nothing and he would be subjected to constant surveillance. Only if he managed to convince Voldemort of his …vengefulness, the other might grant him some freedom.

Voldemort had closely observed the facial expression of Dumbledore's golden boy since he had closed his eyes. The boy seemed to be fighting with something at first - _Conscience_ , Voldemort thought derisively. But he could tell the exact moment rage seemed to take the upper hand over the boy's weakness. Potter's face twisted into an angry mask and his eyes seemingly glowed when he looked at his school-yard rival and sent him to the floor with an intense Cruciatus.

"Very nice, Potter. But I think it is enough for now. You can play with him again later."

Harry was hard-pressed to keep the nausea and horror from his face when he looked at the unconscious boy at his feet. _He_ had done this to Malfoy. Harry knew about the damage a man's mind could take from extended exposure to the Cruciatus. The visit with Neville's parents was as fresh in his mind as though it had been just yesterday.

Harry had the horrible suspicion that Voldemort would not bother granting Malfoy any type of medical care - not if he was this easily willing to let his most loyal followers be tortured.

Was there any way to save Malfoy from the consequences?

"...play with him again later," Voldemort's amused voice reached his ear. Again, Harry had to fight down the nausea. But Voldemort's words also stirred an idea to life.

"How much later? There is much I have to learn if I am joining you... and there are too many accounts open between Malfoy and I." He hoped ardently that his smile looked at least a little evil as he continued. "Lord Voldemort, I am ready to take your mark in a week's time. But I have one condition. I want Malfoy." He forced himself to look Voldemort in the eyes with a cold glare.

The Dark Lord laughed. This was getting better and better! "What do you know, the Boy Who Lived desires a personal slave? Well, I think this can be arranged."

Harry was surprised that none of the Death Eaters protested. What had happened to Malfoy's father? The last Harry had heard of the senior Malfoy had been news of his conviction and deportation to Azkaban. Shouldn't he have been freed as well, by now?

Harry cast about inquisitively, but although no more prisoners were being brought into the hall now, Malfoy Sr. was nowhere to be seen. Harry felt a tingling at the back of his head and realized with horror that Voldemort had used his moment of inattention and read his thoughts again.

"Lucius died in prison shortly after your arrest, Potter," Voldemort explained with a grin. He was pleasantly surprised that the boy was so attentive. "His wife died soon afterwards from a rare poison. I have to admit that Lucius had made no more friends within my ranks than in the old fool's..."

Harry was shocked. Malfoy's parents had been murdered by other Death Eaters? All at once, he felt even worse about what he had just done to the now last surviving Malfoy. But he couldn't show that under any circumstances.

"What a pity. The tragic end of a proud and honourable line," he hissed snidely and spat at the still unconscious boy to underline his words.

Voldemort smiled his reptilian, lipless, satisfied smile. A suitable Death Eater, truly.


	8. April 21st, 1998 (2)

_(Disclaimer: see first chapter.)_

 _ **Beta:** as always, the lovely RedButterfly33. : )_

 _ **A/N:** mandancie, as always, my heartfelt thanks for your review! _

_**W** **arning** : Abuse. Not quite rape, but it rather looks like it, so beware. _

* * *

**7.**

* * *

 _Later that day_

"These are your quarters, Potter. Be on time for the gathering at 8 o'clock," Wormtail admonished him. "Your... _slave_..." - he grinned salaciously - "as well as fresh robes have been laid out for you. I suggest you also make use of the bathroom." The rat animagus gave a derisive sniff.

"I may have no authority yet," Harry answered coldly, "but if I were you, I'd think twice about how I addressed my future _superior_."

He was pleased to see Wormtail flinch.

"One week from now, I will have full rein on meting out punishments. Trust me, your very _existence_ makes me want to curse you." This was nothing but the truth. "Unless you wish to attract further _attention_ , you will treat me with respect, is that clear?"

"Y-yessir, Mr. Potter."

"Very good. Now piss off before I decide to take my anger out on you rather than on Malfoy." With these words, Harry opened the door to his quarters and pulled it shut behind him with a loud bang.

Slowly, he looked around the apartment. In front of him stood a table with several chairs, behind it was a great window looking out on the estate around Voldemort's castle. Doors led to further rooms on both sides. To his left, he spied the small bathroom through a partially open door; meaning that his bedroom and Draco's room must be through the right-hand door.

Harry had not even taken two steps into the room when he paused. _I'm definitely being watched._

He softly muttered a number of quick detection and recon charms, being acutely happy that he had paid close attention to the Defence against the Dark Arts classes during his last school year.

The charms immediately uncovered two eavesdropping spells and one monitoring curse. It took him a while to switch off the monitor, despite it being the most obvious of the bunch. The less obvious eavesdropping spells he left in place for now. Let Voldemort believe he missed them...

Tiredly, he sank down into a chair at the table to mull things over. What other spells might have been placed on these quarters? He doubtfully turned the new wand that Voldemort had supplied him with around in his hands. After a year cut off from doing magic, it was good to finally have that option again; but the wand still felt very unfamiliar in his hands.

Following a sudden spark of inspiration, Harry whispered his own monitor curse that would let him know if any new spells were added to his tiny apartment. Then he got up and stepped through the left door to take his first bath in nearly one and a half years.

* * *

Next to the tub, Harry found the announced Death Eater robes, as well as a few sets of ordinary, albeit expensive-looking, everyday clothes.

He was in the process of pulling the silky, shimmering shirt over his head when he finally remembered Malfoy. Dammit! How could he have forgotten about the injured man?

Maybe he was now permanently disabled due to Harry's negligence - his nerves fried beyond recovery, or his brains... He should have looked after Malfoy before he did anything else!

Foregoing shirt buttons, belt and shoes, Harry took off. Already his hand was on his bedroom's door handle - when he remembered the eavesdropping spells. Much as he despised the thought, he had to convince Voldemort that nothing happened in his quarters that would warrant monitoring. He had to show himself as doing exactly what was expected of him. In essence, this meant he would have to attack Malfoy once more, probably humiliate him as well, to be on the safe side.

Harry felt bile rising in his throat at the thought, and yet he could think of no better way to forestall future espionage.

After the long and eventful day, he was fairly convinced that he lacked the energy for another _Cruciatus_. Despite the rich dinner and even after he'd taken a bath... He'd have to improvise.

Calling himself to order, he resolutely entered the room.

The bedroom was spacious; apart from a large double bed and an old wardrobe, it also housed a small desk in one corner. And next to the bed, there was...

Harry gulped. Suddenly Wormtail's words and the nasty smirk made a lot more sense. _"Your slave as well as fresh robes have been laid out for you."_ He hadn't really paid it any mind earlier, but why would his 'slave' be _laid out_ for him?

Now he knew.

There, on a thin mattress next to the bed, was Draco Malfoy. The formerly proud Slytherin crouched in a tight ball, looking at Harry with eyes widened in panic.

Harry would have been panicking as well had their positions been reversed, for the boy wore... nothing. Nothing but a couple of heavy chains linking a metal collar around his throat to one of the bed posts. The blond's hands and feet were tied together with ropes.

When Harry entered the room, Malfoy tried to scoot back further - a hopeless endeavour, since he was already pressed up against the wall as tightly as though he hoped it would devour him and spare him from further shame. The shame of being completely helpless before his arch rival, who was obviously expected to practice his dark magical curses on him, as well as... certain other Death Eater's duties.

* * *

Draco had no illusions about his situation. He had seen the hatred in Harry's eyes when the man had tortured him until he lost consciousness. No matter what Draco might say, he'd have no chance against that hatred. Today, it had only been the _Cruciatus_ ; but Harry still had a lot to learn. Death Eaters had to know a huge number of curses to torment their victims, in addition to some of the nastier Muggle methods... Rape, too, was part of a Death Eater's standard repertoire.

Draco had been relieved when he finally felt his consciousness fading in Azkaban. He had only come back to his senses when he felt rough hands tearing the clothes from his body. They bathed and combed him. A _Petrificus_ had assured the women that he wouldn't hinder them in their efforts. Mrs. Nott and Mrs. Parkinson had once been good friends with his parents, but now they were treating him like the lowliest scum. And to them, he was. _Of course, after what I have done..._

Draco heard the women talking about him.

"...do not trust the Potter boy. No matter what my husband says, they can't really expect us to believe that Dumbledore's Muggle-loving lapdog has suddenly mutated into a cold-blooded killer."

"But he did nearly _Crucio_ Malfoy here to death."

"Hmm... you are right, that is unlike him."

"Besides, they say he claimed Malfoy as his _property_. I am sure you know the meaning of such a claim?"

Draco nearly fainted again. _Property?!_ According to the ancient pureblood codex, this meant: a slave without rights, without a penny to his name, without free will... only there for his master's _sexual_ pleasure.

Potter wanted him... for...

Or could all this be a simple misunderstanding?

Draco had clung to this hope. Fate couldn't be so bitterly ironic as to render his dreams so close to fulfilment and yet so impossibly unattainable all at once.

He had been grateful when the women finally stopped gossiping about his fate like it was the latest petty scandal in the society pages. The gratefulness lasted exactly until he was brought into the bedroom. The shabby little mattress beside the bed and the heavy chain links left absolutely no doubt about his new status.

When the women finally left him, without clothes, but with some pointed, barbed parting words, Draco Malfoy, last scion of a long line of pureblooded wizarding nobility and pride of Slytherin, had broken down in tears for the first time in many years.

* * *

And now Harry was here.

Draco listened, trembling, as the man who according to the two women was Voldemort's future right-hand man found and deactivated a monitoring curse. Draco's wand had been taken from him when he was brought to Azkaban and he felt even more helpless now upon hearing the proof that Harry once more possessed a wand.

But no matter how bad the _Cruciatus_ had been, other things worried him more.

When he heard the water running in the bathroom, Draco nearly hyperventilated. Why was the other washing himself? Did he intend to...?

When Harry finally entered the room with firm steps, Draco saw his worst fears confirmed. Harry's shirt hung open around his otherwise naked chest, the hair was still wet from his bath and the belt dangled loosely. Harry examined Draco with cold eyes. For a long time he just remained standing in the doorway, observing the room. His eyes finally stuck to Draco and the boy felt as though the other were looking straight through his drawn-up knees.

He frantically tried to move further away from this horribly changed Harry Potter, despite his tied arms and legs. At least they had taken the curses off him so was able to move. But he quickly discovered that this wouldn't help him here at all.

Potter drew his wand and pointed it at Draco.

"Well, ferret, nothing to say?"

Draco desperately pressed himself closer to the wall.

He had to try. He had to tell Harry why he had been in Azkaban. Maybe that way, he would be able to placate the black-haired devil before him.

"Potter, I..."

"Silence!"

"Please, listen to me.. please...! I-"

"I said. SILENCE!" A loud smack resounded as Harry slapped Draco with a flat hand.

He bent down close to Draco, the tips of their noses nearly touching. His hand rose to stroke softly across the cheek it had just slapped. Draco whimpered in fright and finally gave up trying to vanish into the wall. There was no escape.

"Malfoy... When I give you an order, you better obey," Harry said loudly, yet somehow... gently. Only to add in a hard voice: "DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

Draco sobbed. "Yes... Yes!"

"You will say 'Yes, Sir!'" Another slap. "This is for your impertinence."

One more slap. "This is for your past misd-d-demeanours." Was Harry trembling in anger or excitement?

Slap. "This is for daring to display yourself in such a wanton fashion." Draco's last hopes that he might have been mistaken vanished.

He opened his eyes when the hits stopped coming.

And saw Harry kneeling in front of him, eyes pinched shut and his breath sounding laboured. With the same fascination with which a hare looks straight into the hunter's eyes, Draco watched as Harry's lashes slowly raised. His 'Master' said with a cruel twist to the corners of his mouth: "Well, _Draco_ , since you have awaited me here in so inviting a pose, I had best accept the invitation, don't you agree?"

"No, please don't... Ah!"

Harry had put a hand to his throat in no time. "You will say 'Yes, Sir!'"

Tearing apart Draco's bonds with his other hand, he hissed threateningly: "I will teach you manners. - On your hands and knees, and make it snappy!"

Draco was shaking with fear, but he did not dare protest again.

"Say, Malfoy, how loud do you get?" Harry's whispered words suddenly reached his ears.

It was too much. The fear of what Harry was about to do to him made him burst into tears once more. "Please... please don't...," he sobbed. Why did it have to be Harry? Why the one man who -

" _Please don't_ , huh?" Scornful laughter. "You amuse me, Malfoy. But there is more amusement I wish to get from you tonight. You probably know from personal experience how long each day in Azkaban can be... and how much longer each lonely night..."

"No, please...!"

"Maybe we had better show some consideration for our next-door neighbours. Your begging is very loud already; how much louder are you going to scream when you beg me for other things? - _Silencio!_ "

* * *

Voldemort contentedly petted Nagini's head. He had withdrawn to his own quarters to watch undisturbed how his future commander-in-chief settled into the castle. Potter may have countered his monitor curse, but he'd left the eavesdropping spell intact until a minute ago. He must have accidentally cut it off with that overzealous _Silencio._

Upon realizing that the former Gryffindor did not show the least trace of mercy towards his victim, Voldemort had been surprised - positively. The further conversation had left him immensely pleased in some respects, but a little unsatisfied in others. He knew how to solve this dilemma, of course.

"Wormtail!" When the grovelling traitor stuck his head in through the door, Voldemort coldly ordered him: "Bring me one of the women left from the last attack." The image of Potter subjugating the young Malfoy did not leave him cold.

* * *

Sweat was gathering in large pearly drops on Harry's forehead as he forced himself to abase Malfoy further and further. He knew well from his visions that Voldemort knew no mercy towards his victims and loved to play with them.

Finally, Harry thought he had pushed this farce far enough. Casting _Silencio_ and extending it to all three rooms, he accidentally-on-purpose also cut off the eavesdropping spells.

When he was sure he had properly performed that task and they were free from all forms of espionage, Harry cancelled the spell and shakily sat back on his heels.

He heard Malfoy whimpering quietly.

Running to the bathroom, Harry proceeded to be noisily sick.


	9. April 21st, 1998 (3)

_(Disclaimer: see first chapter.)_

 _ **Beta:** RedButterfly33. Thank you so much!_

 _ **A/N:** Many thanks for the reviews go to mandancie and Gwen Polk! (And to the anonymous, French reviewer - *constructive* criticism would be highly appreciated, though. :P) My apologies to everyone for leaving this so long. In my defence, first I was on holiday, now RL has gotten a bit crazy... Anyway, enjoy! :)_

* * *

 **8.**

* * *

 _(The same day, still.)_

 _Monster._

 _I am a monster._

Harry straightened up, gasping for breath. He propped his hands up on the toilet seat he had been sticking his head through a moment ago.

 _I have reduced Malfoy to this trembling, crying and_ begging _thing!_

I _did that._

 _I did that to_ Malfoy _\- the proud, arrogant, self-confident and snotty Malfoy._

How much worse than he'd expected must his words have been to break even _Malfoy_?

 _Break. I have broken him. Never mind that this is Malfoy. I have broken another person. A person who was completely at my mercy and was_ begging _me..._

 _Monster._

 _I hate you._

Harry was now standing in front of the mirror staring at his own face that was still glistening with droplets of water from where he had washed his mouth.

 _I hate you._

 _You are as bad as Voldemort._

 _\- Not true,_ another voice suddenly chimed in. _After all, it was for his sake as much as mine._

 _Oh, so you think you did this out of pure altruism?_

 _\- Well, I certainly don't hate him. I trembled while I insulted him. I had to close my eyes and take a deep breath in order not to fold myself up into a crying heap of misery upon beating him. I suffered..._

 _And you think that makes it all better?_

 _\- No... But now's not the time for self-pity._

 _Really now?_

 _\- Really. Draco's worse off than ever and you still have done nothing to heal his injuries from the_ Cruciatus _._

"Oh fuck!"

Harry hastily wiped off his face and returned to the bedroom.

* * *

 _"Silencio!"_

 _This is it. He's really going to do it._

 _Harry...!_

Draco was trembling uncontrollably. Naked, on his hands and knees, he was sitting in front of Harry Potter, the man because of whom he had been taken to Azkaban. The man who was about to completely destroy him.

 _How can he have changed so much? It's not fair!_

Draco's body shook harder when he felt Harry shifting behind him. His body tensed up anticipating the impending doom.

 _Why does it have to be him?_

 _Why?_

 _And why couldn't he at least have listened to me? Why...?_

It took a while before he noticed Harry's absence.

What could this mean? Uncertainly, Draco turned around. His surprise at finding the room empty of Harry passed quickly as he heard the sound of retching from the bathroom.

 _Is he ill...?_

Immediately two emotions were warring in Draco's breast: relief, because Harry might not now be able to violate him; and worry. Worry about the other. After all this was still Harry, the man who could save or destroy him. The man who was holding Draco's life in his hands - and had been, for much longer than Harry himself could possibly know.

* * *

When Harry returned to the bedroom, Draco was fearfully watching his approach. But it was no longer the mindless panic that had disfigured his traces earlier. This time, there was more than the naked fear for his life - or rather, for his integrity - in the prisoner's gaze. Harry couldn't tell what it was. But ultimately, it didn't matter. He finally had to take care of Draco's injuries.

Draco flinched back when Harry pointed his wand at him.

"Don't worry, Malfoy, I'm not going to hurt you. _Sanis._ "

Draco sat motionlessly, watching Harry drop to his knees beside him and start to heal the wounds he himself had inflicted. His eyes bulged in disbelief when Harry proceeded to look for the after-effects of _Cruciatus,_ finding and healing several torn nerve endings.

"Master, what are you doing?" Draco whispered.

The reaction to his words was not what he had expected. Harry covered his face with his hands and averted his head. Puzzled, Draco saw that the black-haired man's shoulders were shaking.

 _He's crying...!_

"Please...," came Harry's choked voice, "please don't call me 'Master'!"

Now Draco was seriously confused. "How... how am I to address you then, Sir?"

"Not 'Sir', not 'Master'! Respect is the last thing I deserve! Oh God, Malfoy, I am so sorry!" Harry had turned around during these words and was now staring at Draco with wild, wet, red-rimmed eyes.

Draco swallowed nervously.

"What are you sorry for... Potter?" he finally dared to ask.

"Everything!" was the agonized answer. "My words. The _Cruciatus_. The beating. The... The humiliation..."

Harry's voice broke. His sobbing increased in volume, only interrupted once as he spoke a shaky spell to release all of Draco's chains and bonds. Draco just kept watching him with growing bewilderment. He did not understand a single word Harry was saying. None of it made any sense.

Silently he watched Harry get up and go back to the bathroom. He did not move, not even when Harry returned carrying several clothing items and holding them out to him.

For a moment they remained like that. Then Harry took a fortifying deep breath and said: "Malfoy. Please put these on."

Draco took the offered clothes, still without a word. He watched Harry turn around and leave the room. Draco sat looking at that closed door for a long time.

Finally, he allowed himself to believe Harry's words, at least for the time being. Harry seemed to truly want him to get dressed. And there had been no trace of lust or cruelty in his voice any longer.

Had he been under _Imperius_ before?

No, that made no sense. Why would Voldemort do that? And how would Harry have shaken off an _Imperius_ in his weakened state after such a long time in Azkaban?

Hmm... drugs, maybe? What could they have given Harry?

But who? Someone who hated Draco and wanted to get back at him? That would have taken some lengthy and complicated preparation. Somehow that seemed rather implausible.

There was nothing for it. If he wanted answers, he had to ask Harry.

* * *

It took nearly an hour for Harry to re-emerge from the bathroom. Draco had spent the entire time sitting quietly at the table, racking his brains for answers about his former classmate's behaviour. None of it made sense. It was nearly as though there were two Harrys. But which of them was the real one?

Draco watched the slowly opening bathroom door with a great deal of nervousness. Which of the two Harrys would he be faced with any second now? The heroic and ultimately good-natured Gryffindor from their school days or the evil, dangerous Death Eater from earlier that day? ...Or possibly a third - the broken and distraught Harry he had encountered last?

Had Azkaban broken Harry? Was that why he was so... capricious?

Draco nearly laughed out loud. Capricious? He'd always been a master of understatements.

However, the laughter stuck in his throat as Harry closed the door behind him and now approached him with slow, yet deliberate steps. He sat down at the table opposite Draco and mutely looked at him.

Draco nearly went mad from that look.

It was impossible to tell which Harry was examining him from underneath those expressionless eyes. Harry now had such total control over his features that any Slytherin would envy him for it. Draco wanted to know who he was dealing with at present, but if it was the Death Eater, he was loath to make a wrong move. _One_ word spoken out of turn could suffice to condemn him to a continuation of the previously interrupted scene.

He could not quite suppress a tremor at the thought. He might have always wished for... But not like _that_...!

"Malfoy."

Harry's quiet word made Draco flinch like a beaten dog. He fearfully looked at the other. _Yes?_ he wanted to say. But which form of address should he use? Master? Or Potter?

Harry?

 _No, not Harry. Never Harry._

He might wish for things to be different. But in the current situation, using his given name could well be a mistake that _any_ of Harry's personalities would resent.

He ended up just staring at Harry insecurely.

The other avoided his gaze. "Say, Malfoy, why were you in Azkaban anyway?"

Draco swallowed drily. He had not expected that question. Twice today he had tried to explain to Harry what had happened - but Harry had shot him down both times.

He anxiously squinted at the wand lying on the table in front of Harry. Harry followed his gaze and sighed. Then he took up the wand. Draco immediately retreated a bit, ending up sitting ramrod-straight in his chair, as far from the table as possible.

Harry looked at him with a sad expression. "Will you promise me that you won't attack me if I put the wand away?"

Draco was mystified. Why would Harry want to put away the wand? Maybe he had need of both his hands... Oh Merlin, was that it? Did Harry want to continue where he left off earlier?

...Even if he did, what could Draco do about it?

If Harry put away the wand, maybe he could somehow snatch it for himself. But even then he'd have no chance of escaping. He was much too weakened to use magic. Not to mention he was currently inside a castle filled with Death Eaters and covered with an unbreakable two-way apparition jinx.

Whatever Harry was planning, Draco was at his mercy. He resignedly closed his eyes and nodded.

For a moment, there was silence, as though Harry was mutely examining him to gauge if he was telling the truth. He seemed to come to some kind of conclusion, for Draco soon heard the other approaching him. Unknowingly, he started trembling again.

But Harry did not stop next to Draco, instead passing him by and walking over to the window. Draco heard a quiet rattle as the other put his wand down on the window sill, then the steps returned. Again he stiffened up; again Harry passed him by. A scraping noise - Harry moving the chair about and sitting back down. Then silence.

"Malfoy?"

Draco looked up, his mouth completely dry. Harry sat opposite him. His mask appeared to have slipped, for Draco could now easily read the exhaustion and something akin to insecurity in the ex-Gryffindor's face. Again, Harry spoke up.

"Malfoy, I know we have always hated each other. You never had any reason to trust me. After what happened today, I don't know if you'll ever be able to trust me again. Probably not. It doesn't really matter. But... I don't want you to suffer more than you absolutely have to. That is why I hope that against my expectations, you may come to believe me one day if I tell you that I do not wish to harm you."

Draco incredulously stared at the wizard before him.

"Yes, I know I have given you ample reason to worry. But as you see, I am currently unarmed. Besides, I have also only just gotten out of Azkaban today and I am just as exhausted as you. Even if I wanted to, I could hardly do much damage any more today.

"Not that I haven't done enough already..." The last sentence he'd said so quietly Draco suspected it wasn't intended for his ears.

What did Harry mean by all this? Was he trying to tell him that he had no other choice but to hurt and humiliate him? That he was sorry? Or did he want to lull him into a false sense of security, only to strike at him that much harder afterwards?

He didn't know. But he hoped. He wanted to believe that the face Harry was showing him now was the Harry who was currently in control. The real Harry.

"Why... what... Did you really demand me as your _property_?" he managed to hesitantly force out.

Harry sighed and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, pain and loneliness shone from the green depths. "I did not want any of this, Malfoy. I just wanted to peacefully die in my cell. But Voldemort wouldn't let me."

Draco sharply sucked in his breath.

"He told me in no uncertain terms that I would join him, with or without my consent. He knows I can throw off the _Imperius_ , but there are a host of other ways to break a person. I am sure your father taught you a few things about that."

Draco lowered his eyes. He still had not gotten over his parents' death. His eyes were burning and he was ashamed to notice a tear leaving his right eye to trail inexorably past his fringe and down his cheek. He did not want Harry to see him so broken. But if he wiped away the tear, it would be obvious. So he kept sitting there, outwardly calm, and hoped that the other was maybe looking down again, as well.

"Oh God, Malfoy! I shouldn't have said that... I only heard about your parents today. I am so sorry!"

Now Draco looked up, after all. His gaze fell upon a beet red Harry Potter who had _Awkward!_ written across his entire face as though branded into it.

"I'm sorry. But you know Gryffindors... we only know what we're saying when we hear the words..." He forced out a smile and averted his eyes.

"Anyway..." Draco could tell it was a huge effort for the other to force a calm tone back into his voice. But Harry won the fight. "Anyway, I didn't want to become Voldemort's mindless puppet. If I had to join Voldemort's side, I wanted to use that chance.

"Voldemort has ruined my life. He has stolen my parents from me - and with them my childhood, for my relatives hated me. He turned my school years, the best time of my life, into a cruel nightmare again and again. And finally he caused me to be condemned to Azkaban for my relatives' murder. Admittedly, I sometimes wished to end these... _people_ " - Draco got the vague impression that Harry had quite a different word in mind - "with a clean _Avada_. But I never could have gone through with something like that.

"I thought my friends knew that," he added, once more so quietly that Draco was sure Harry had unwittingly voiced his thoughts. The ex-hero dully stared holes into the air for a moment, then he regained a handle on his thoughts and continued. Draco clung spell-bound to his every word.

"I have every reason to hate Voldemort. Even though my friends have abandoned me, even though the Order betrayed me and my godfather disappointed me - the one I hate most in this world is still Tom Riddle."

"Riddle?"

"Voldemort's former name... I hate that man. If man he be. …If I give up now, he will continue with his sick plans like before. Did you know there's a prophecy about Voldemort and me?" he now directly addressed Draco.

Draco stared at him like a deer in headlights, too surprised to give any response.

"It claims that I am the only one who can defeat him, Malfoy. It is my task to kill Voldemort. If I don't do it, nobody can.

"I am currently not a big fan of the wizarding world at large. And neither have I had much luck with the Muggles in my life. But even if it weren't to prevent the deaths of countless innocents, I'd still want my revenge! Voldemort has destroyed me, and I can't leave when I know damn well that I am the only one who can avenge myself!"

Fire was suddenly dancing behind Harry's eyes.

"My life is over. Everyone has betrayed me, to the last man they have abandoned me. Hedwig is dead; she may have been the only creature to have ever truly l... liked me."

It pained Draco to see that Harry couldn't even say the word 'love'.

"There is nobody left. All I want is to go on... to leave all this behind me... But of course Voldemort won't make it that easy." He barked a bitter laugh. "I am to play his figurehead, like I have previously done for Dumbledore and Fudge. But I am sick of being used!

"If I have to go, I will take him with me! The day I leave this life behind will also be Voldemort's last." After this impressive statement, Harry looked around a bit startled as though only now perceiving his audience. He sighed.

"And this is where you come in, Malfoy. If I want to get close enough to Voldemort to do him in, I need to gain his trust. But I'll only get that if he believes me to be an angry, vengeful Death Eater fully under his control. Today... in Azkaban... I had to prove I was cut out to be a Death Eater, Malfoy. I was forced to torture a human being -" He gulped audibly.

"I was happy that I didn't have to kill anyone yet. But I fear that is only a temporary blessing. The _Cruciatus_ was bad enough. Worse for you than for me, though, I am sure. But to be honest, it was harder than I thought it would be. I saw you and thought about what you and your father have done to me over the years. If I had to torture anyone, I thought, I'd rather it be someone who deserves it..."

Draco was hurt by those words, but he kept his mouth shut. It was only logical for Harry to see things that way. After all, he had never given him any reason to think differently.

Harry continued, unaware of his opposite's sad gaze. "Unfortunately, I had been mistaken. It was not a single bit easier to cast the _Cruciatus_ on you than if it had been Hermione or Ron."

Draco could not suppress a disbelieving snort. Simultaneously, Harry continued: "Not that this is saying very much any more. After their betrayal, I am not sure if it mightn't even have been easier with them..." He broke off, utterly confused. "I mean, at least you never made a secret of what you thought of me."

"That's where you're mistaken, Harry," Draco whispered.

The words had left his lips before he had time to consider them. Startled, he looked up at Harry, hoping the other hadn't heard. But this day did not seem content to be the worst day of his life. It just had to get worse.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked bemusedly.

Draco groaned. Just what he needed. It was painful enough that Harry deemed him the one person he could curse with the least qualms; now his stupid mouth had to go off and admit the feeling wasn't reciprocated! How much deeper could he dig his own grave?

"Nothing, I... errr - how do you mean? Um, why did you have trouble cursing me? Didn't feel like it."

The miracle happened. Harry let himself be distracted. He drowned in his sense of guilt and apparently forgot all about Draco's little slip.

"Oh God, Malfoy, I am so sorry! I didn't want all this..." And they were back to square one. "I- I had to think of Voldemort and nearly completely switch off my brain in order to make that _Cruciatus_ work for me. If I hadn't cursed you, I'd never be able to win Voldemort's trust. And then I could never defeat him..."

"You mean you don't hate me enough to curse me?"

"Merlin, no!" Harry stared at him with his eyes wide open. "The only one I hate that much is Voldemort... your master," he added despondently.

* * *

 _A/N: "Sanis" is a spell I made up. It's supposed to heal minor wounds, such as the headache and burning cheeks from getting one's face slapped several times._


	10. April 21st, 1998 (4)

_( **Disclaimer** : see first chapter.)_

 _ **A/N:** Many thanks to my wonderful **beta** RedButterfly33 and my faithful **reviewer** mandancie. You are the greatest! :D_

* * *

 **9.**

* * *

 _(Same day, still.)_

Harry had just realized that he was currently speaking to a Death Eater. One of Voldemort's followers. Even if Malfoy wasn't as happy with his master any more now that he'd been given to his archenemy as a toy, Harry still could not be sure that Malfoy would not betray his plans to the Dark Lord next chance he got.

Why oh why did he start this conversation?

 _Because he deserved an explanation_ , his subconscious answered without hesitation. Harry sighed.

One and a half years in Azkaban, abandoned and betrayed by everyone he had ever known - and still his incorrigible Gryffindor virtuousness prevented him from putting his own safety first. When would he finally stop trusting blindly in people? He really should know better by now.

Without his knowledge, his face twisted into a bitter grimace.

"V-Voldemort is not my master."

Surprised, he focused back on the Malfoy heir. "Say what?"

"I said: Voldemort is not my master. I never received his mark."

"Really? I thought you'd have entered his service right after your graduation."

"No. I never got the chance... You were arrested," he said as though that explained everything.

"So?" Harry asked, feeling a bit lost. What did one thing have to do with the other?

"Well... my father died just a week later; followed by my mother. I began to thoroughly rethink Father's position. It was obvious they had both died at the hands of other Death Eaters. Since it was that obvious, Voldemort must have allowed it. No Death Eater would kill another without at least implicit permission. Not without carefully covering their tracks.

"But my parents have been so obviously murdered that I had to assume Voldemort ordered it. I started looking for clues as to why. Finally, I discovered Mother's diary. It was well-hidden; I am sure Father had no idea it existed. He would not have approved. Private information should never be recorded in any way that allows others to view it...

"But Mother did keep a diary, and I was glad of it. It opened my eyes and saved my life - even though that pleasure was short-lived." He cast an anxious look at the bedroom door and swallowed audibly before he continued. Harry flinched guiltily at the sight.

"What was written in the diary?" he asked hesitantly.

Draco focused him with a serious look. "It appears that since Voldemort's return, my father was no longer the dutiful Death Eater he used to be. Unless my mother mistook his motivations, he had enjoyed the peaceful life without his former master. When Voldemort unexpectedly reappeared three years ago, he had no choice but to return to him. The mark left him no other options. But he did so grudgingly.

"I'd always thought that one day I would proudly fight for the acknowledgement of pureblood supremacy like my father. Father never told me that he no longer respected Voldemort's leadership. Thinking back on all the pureblood propaganda I spouted during school makes me want to hurl.

"In Mother's diary, I read that Voldemort used to be very different. He pursued his goals just as coolly and unscrupulously as he does nowadays, but back then, he still had ideals. Since his return, that has changed. He indiscriminately tortured and killed anyone who got in his way, be they foe or follower. It was Hell on all his subordinates and only the crazies like Bella were still loyal to him like they'd been in the old days. Most are only here still because they expect to benefit from being on the winning side. This has nothing to do with ideals any more.

"Mother never wrote down exactly what had been going on; but her worries and increasingly incoherent entries let me conclude that Father started to scheme against Voldemort within the Ministry. Since the Lord's return, he's been involved in countering Voldemort's plans numerous times - without the Order of the Phoenix or the Death Eater wising up to his machinations, and always on his guard from either side.

"I don't know what finally gave his game away, but the discovery of his schemes seems the only logical reason for his being... eliminated. I assume I was only left alive because Crabbe and Goyle could vouch for me being a fervent supporter of dark magic and pureblood supremacy.

"It was only upon reading my mother's observations and thoughts that I realized how right you were, all those years ago, to prefer Weasley's friendship to mine. My parents had followed a madman and paid for their foolishness with their lives; and I was about to make the same mistake.

"The realization hit me hard. Where only a week earlier I had been gloating about you having been wrongfully thrown into Azkaban, I was now far from happy. If I did not join Voldemort, my life would be in danger. After all, it was expected of me. But how could I follow a madman who, to make matters worse, was responsible for my parents' murders?

"I came to see that my life would only be safe if Voldemort was defeated. By you.

"Until today, I had no idea there was a prophecy; but even so, it had always been clear that for some reason, Dumbledore put all his hopes into you. The entire wizarding world seemed convinced that you were going to save them. I did not quite know what to make of it; but I knew you were more powerful than any other wizard our age. If anyone could surpass Dumbledore's power, it would be you. Voldemort may fear the Headmaster; but only an even stronger wizard will be able to defeat him - you."

"With the 'power the Dark Lord knows not', perhaps?" Harry asked cynically.

"What?"

"That is what the prophecy says: That I have some kind of power the Dark Lord does not know... And that that is what will allow me to defeat him. I've always been stumped as to what that power is supposed to be. Any remarkable talents I possess I got at age one from Voldemort when he tried to off me." He laughed without humour. "If my powers come from him, then how can I have any he does not know? I can't do anything he couldn't do better."

"You can fly."

"Oh, great! I'm sure that's gonna help."

"What's this, Potter? Self-pity?"

"Ha! Like I would sink down to your level!"

They stared at each other across the table. A spark of their old rivalry flared briefly between them.

The tension lasted only for a moment, though. Then both of them noticed at the same time what they were doing and lowered their eyes, suddenly embarrassed.

"I am sorry-"

"I should not have-"

Harry blinked a few times. Malfoy looked just as sheepish as himself. Why? Malfoy had every right to be bawling him out like he used to do - more, even. But as for himself... Bad enough that he'd done all those horrible things to Malfoy today; but if the Slytherin was telling the truth, he'd also completely misjudged him. Malfoy had not become a Death Eater, but had rather... hoped for Harry to win?

"You seriously wanted me to win against Voldemort?"

"Yes."

"But don't you hate me?"

"Pfh... not for the longest time. But that didn't even come into it at first. I just wanted Voldemort to be defeated. By whom didn't really matter to me; but it rather looked like the Boy-Who-Lived was my best bet. Too bad I only understood that after you'd been locked up."

They shared a sombre look.

"My mother did everything within her power to keep you out of Azkaban. But with the Order, the Ministry and Voldemort, each with their respective lobbyists and spies, united against you, she didn't stand a chance. She wasn't like Father. Come to think of it, her efforts during your trial were probably the reason my parents' betrayal was discovered..."

Both boys once more despondently lowered their eyes.

"Well. Once I got to this point in my ruminations, I started personally taking apart your relatives' deaths, your trial, the witnesses and your testimony. During those weeks, I learned more about you than I ever wanted to know. I borrowed Father's invisibility cloak – he wasn't going to ever need it again – and spied on your friends. I spent an entire week around the Weasels only to find out more about you."

His features twisted in haughty disdain. Harry was somehow glad to see it. That was more like the Malfoy he knew.

"I even spied on the mud- pardon, on Granger, to find out what your friends thought about you. I just couldn't believe that you should truly have killed someone. Not you. You were always too much of a Gryffindor. And I was sure your friends knew this. I hoped that Granger might already have a plan to get you out.

"To my great astonishment, I discovered that while they may have had doubts initially, they gave up their hopes after your testimony. They are weak, your friends."

"Don't you think I know that?" Harry audibly ground his teeth, clenching them tight to keep himself from once more shouting out his rage at the unfairness of life. He had done enough of that in Azkaban. "I trusted them. I would have died for them, dammit! And they drop me like a hot potato... all because of a single mouthful of _Arsendictum!_ "

Draco sat up straight in surprise. " _Arsendictum?_ "

"Yes, that is what they gave me prior to my testimony. I assume you've heard of it?"

"Of course... but how do you know of it? I am quite sure it wasn't on our Potions curriculum – not that that would have changed anything."

"Thank you, I am quite aware I suck at Potions." Harry's upper lip curled with distaste. "Hmmm... You see, Fawkes visited me in Azkaban. Until about a week ago, I thought he truly cared about me. I learned to communicate with him. ...He brought me some books from Hogwarts. That is how I learned about the poison. ...He kept me company. I thought he was the only friend I had left."

Malfoy looked at him expectantly. "So then what happened?"

"What do you think? He betrayed me like everyone else. He was only there to acquire information about Voldemort. I witness quite a lot through my scar. I told him about that. But I suppose my usefulness has finally run out."

Numb silence filled the room.

"I don't have any friends. Everyone I ever trusted ended up betraying me. Sometimes I think I should just quit. But... not before Voldemort has paid!" The hard tone had returned, along with the coldness in his eyes. But Harry knew nothing of how he looked. He was lost in his thoughts.

"So you will take your revenge against Voldemort. And then what?" Malfoy asked cautiously.

"Then... I'll finally leave this sad existence, I suppose. Why do you ask?"

"Well, I..." Embarrassed, the blond broke off.

Harry curiously considered him. What difference did it make to Malfoy whether he lived or died? Once Voldemort was defeated, Malfoy would be free.

Free.

Harry noticed in dismay that the conversation had taken such a wide turn that he still hadn't cleared up the initial misunderstanding. "Malfoy?"

"Yes?"

Harry was happy that Malfoy answered him without hesitation. Maybe this entire off-topic discussion had done some good, after all.

"About earlier..." How could he possibly say this? _You know, I never intended to rape you, I was just playing with you?_ God, no.

At his words, Malfoy had blanched spectacularly and slumped down in his chair. "...Yes?" he whispered, once more quiet and insecure.

"I... that was..." Again Harry broke off.

Malfoy sat up straight as though he'd come to some kind of decision. Harry saw the effort it took him to project outward calm when he spoke up with a slightly trembling voice. "I've been an arse towards you. You had every right to be angry at me. If... if it helps you... If you think it's necessary for you to... to use me this way, then... then I suppose it's alright, I mean... I am..." The words died on his lips as his laboriously constructed calm shattered. Sheer panic glazed his eyes.

It made something in Harry clench painfully. "I didn't want this, Malfoy. I hope I'll never be in a situation where I have to do what I talked about earlier, with you or anyone else. I... There were surveillance spells on these chambers, Malfoy. If I want to have any peace in our quarters in the future, I had to convince Voldemort that I truly am the evil Death Eater he wants. It was only with that _Silencio_ that I cut the eavesdropping spells. I hope he bought my pretence that I was unaware of it.

"I would never deliberately hurt you, Malfoy. You or anyone else. It pains me to see you afraid of me. Please. Please believe me. I would never..." He broke off and looked at the other with sad, watery eyes.

"You mean...," Draco began nervously. His tongue shot out to moisten his fear-parched lips. "You mean it was all just for show? You... you don't intend to" – he gulped audibly – "to sleep with me?"

Harry was horrified. "No! Of course not."

Puzzled, Harry watched the emotions wildly flickering across Malfoy's face in the wake of his statement. Relief was obvious, but also something else. Disappointment?

No, that made no sense. Harry was just opening his mouth to ask what was wrong when he heard Malfoy whispering under his breath: "You're probably not even interested in men."

Harry's mouth slammed shut in surprise. How could Malfoy even think about that at a time like this? His inclinations didn't even come into this. Surely it would suffice that he said he would not harass Malfoy – wouldn't it? Why would Draco Malfoy be interested in whether Harry was gay or hetero?

Upon closer consideration, Harry had to admit that he didn't know for sure himself. After the seemingly interminable and exhausting day, his thoughts now shucked off their reins to roam freely. Mutely, he sat pondering inconsequentials.

There'd been the thing with Cho... But he had long since buried that episode in a back drawer of his mind labelled "Complete and utter failure". Then there was Ginny. But she was too young, really, to make him want to imagine her in a sexual context, never mind that he had liked her before Azkaban. This "liking" always smacked of brotherly affection anyway, back when Ron had been like a brother to him.

He uttered a pained sigh.

It wasn't as though he'd had much time in his life to explore the question of his sexuality. Apart from a few wet kisses, his only sexual contact to date had been with his own hand. And in Azkaban, that had very quickly lost any appeal.

"Dunno..."

* * *

Draco looked at Harry in surprise. He hadn't really expected an answer to his question. He hadn't even been aware that he'd said it out loud.

"You don't know? But surely you must have some idea whether you like guys or girls?" He hated himself for the hopeful tenor of his own voice. Harry had stated plain as day that he had no ambitions whatsoever to have sex with Draco Malfoy. So he'd better get a grip now before he could embarrass himself further.

At least it looked like Harry wasn't about to rape him. He could be thankful for that. On the other hand... if that meant that Harry would never touch him at all...

 _Stop! Such thoughts are entirely unhelpful! Focus, Draco!_

"...fer?" There he had it. Harry had asked him something and he'd missed it completely. _Brilliant, Malfoy. A hundred points to Slytherin._

"Excuse me, what did you say?"

"I asked: which do you prefer?"

"Y- that is to say, er -" There was no way he'd tell Harry just like that! The Gryffindor surely would refuse to sleep in the same quarters as him if he knew that...

The same quarters.

Why _did_ Potter claim him as his property?

"Um, Potter, one question: how come I am your _property_ if you don't actually want me?"

Harry flushed, completely embarrassed. Draco had trouble understanding him as he quietly mumbled into his non-existent beard: "I had no idea what that even means! I only knew that I'd hurt you and no-one cared about healing you. I didn't know why Voldemort would hand over one of his Death Eaters just like that, but I had the feeling you might bite it if I didn't look after that damage myself. I am deeply sorry that I only did that after scarring you for life. I don't know how I will ever make that up to you... Well, as soon as I defeat Voldemort, you'll be free, alright? Then you'll be quit of me.

"...You know, the question of who or what I like is actually a moot point. I will continue living as long as I have to, but then I'll take my leave. There's nothing tying me to this plane... So the chances are pretty slim that I'll find out what love is during what's left of this life, right?"

Draco hated the embittered look on Harry's face. He could not tell the Gryffindor, that... But maybe he could at least let him know that he was wrong. Not every living being in this world had abandoned him.

"Ha- Potter, don't talk like that!" _It hurts._ "Your life does not have to end when Voldemort dies. That's rubbish! There are so many things to live for. Your friends abandoned you? They were dumb Gryffindors, Harry!" _Unlike me._

This time, he could not prevent the slip. He had so often thought about "Harry" during the past fourteen months that he now had trouble going back to the family name like before.

Harry noticed. His face was a study in puzzlement that probably would have greatly amused Draco at any other time.

"Not everyone abandoned you, Harry. And those who did not would be mighty disappointed if you just stole away like that."

"Not everyone?" Harry asked suspiciously. "Not a chance. The entire WORLD hates me."

"Harry, did you wonder at all why I was sent to Azkaban?"

He could see it in Harry's face that the thought hadn't occurred. _Gryffindor._

"They locked me up because I fought for you."

* * *

 _ **A/N:** And that's that day finally done, and along with it the lengthy talk. Story will be moving along a bit more next chapter. :)_


	11. May 20th, 1998

_(Disclaimer: see first chapter. )_

 _ **Beta:** RedButterfly33. I don't always take all her suggestions - any remaining mistakes are my own. But I love her for the many good helpful hints, corrections and ideas! :D_

 _( **AN** : mandancie, as always, thank you so much! ^^)_

* * *

 **10.**

* * *

 _May 20th, 1998_

"Draco? I'm back."

Harry closed the door behind him and laboriously shrugged off his Death Eater's robes. Absent-mindedly, he uttered a charm to vanish the blood that had dripped from the black cloth onto the carpet.

"Hello Harry." Draco stood in the bathroom door, dressed only in silk pyjamas, and gave him a worried look. Well, as much of a worried look as a man could manage with a pink toothbrush stuck in the corner of his mouth.

Harry's own lips twitched at the sight. "Draco, I'll still be here two minutes from now. Please just finish brushing your teeth."

With a nod that sprinkled droplets of tooth paste across the door frame, Draco ducked back into the bathroom. Harry waved his wand in the pattern of the cleaning charm once more - but this time with a smile on his face.

He was sometimes surprised that he could still smile. Every day he went out on Voldemort's behest and led attacks against small wizarding settlements or against unsuspecting Muggles.

It was horrible. He tried to close off his heart while his brain mechanically filed away each spell that the Death Eaters under his command uttered for later use. The blood, the screams... He was plagued by nightmares in his sleep. His waking hours were filled with his conscience telling him to finally make an end to the cruel game.

He could not do that. Not yet. Only once he had learned enough to really be an equal to Voldemort could he drop his mask. Not only for the sake of his own revenge - but also for Draco.

Draco, the only man who had stuck by him.

Sometimes, he wanted to give in to crazy laughter at the thought that of all the people he knew, it had been the man he considered one of his worst enemies who knew him best and had believed in him.

That night roughly a month ago, when they arrived in Voldemort's keep, they had kept talking until Harry had to attend the gathering, and continued after he returned. In time, Harry had learned that Draco had done more than just research on his case. He had fought for Harry. He had brought to light every detail that could have led to a revision of the case. He had dug so deeply into Harry's history that eventually, a sense of admiration for the Gryffindor had taken hold of him. And more than that. He had realized why, in all their years at school, he had never been able to let Harry be. And it had nothing to do with house rivalry.

The conversation lapsed for several days after this revelation. To be precise, it lasted until Harry gave up for the first time.

He had killed that day.

He was stood in front of the mirror in their shared bathroom with his wand to his temple - when Draco suddenly burst in.

After a long screaming match, Harry eventually had to abandon his suicide plans, convinced that he could not abandon the only one who had believed in him and stood by him. He resigned himself to the fact that Draco Malfoy was in love with him, Harry Potter. He became reconciled to the idea that he could not just kill himself. He let himself be comforted by the man whose heart he owned as much as his body.

Harry did not love Draco, and perhaps he never would.

Draco understood that and though it pained him, he said he still wanted to be there for Harry. He gave freely without ever getting anything back.

More out of a sense of guilt than anything else, Harry had let Draco convince him after two weeks to share the bed not only in the literal sense. Draco had wrapped his arms around him after Harry had broken down crying the moment the door fell shut behind him. He had learned that day how to combine _Imperius_ with _Cruciatus_ to keep the victim conscious for longer.

Draco had comforted him, held him in his arms, while his hands soothingly stroked Harry's back.

Then he had kissed him.

Harry lost himself in that kiss. It was a tender kiss, filled with love and warmth. After what Harry had done that day, he felt so cold... He sunk into the offered warmth and just wanted to forget.

Draco granted his wish.

The next morning, Harry realized that he had taken advantage of the other. He was about to once more take drastic measures (his dagger), when Draco explained to him in no-nonsense tones that Harry's death would not do him any good. Draco preferred a Harry who didn't love him over a dead Harry.

So Harry felt obliged to at least give him physical closeness if he couldn't give him real love.

Harry was Draco's life.

Draco was completely dependent on him. There was the fact that he loved Harry; but he also had to play his slave. Draco could never leave the chambers they inhabited together. Apart from Harry, the House Elves who brought him his food and changed the bedding were the only living creatures he had any regular contact with. Every day, he lived for the moment when Harry would return; always afraid that one day, he would not come.

'Draco, I'm back' was their all-clear phrase. After some initial problems with Death Eaters wanting to 'make the traitor's son pay', the boys had become very cautious.

* * *

 _\- Flashback -_

 _"Well, little traitor pig, look at you! Finally, you are right where you belong!"_

 _Smack._

 _"Aaah!"_

 _"Say, what's Potter doing to you? Are you his little bitch now?"_

 _Laughter._

 _"Does he even know the Ministry locked you up for arguing_ his _case?"_

 _Pathetic whimpering. "No..."_

 _"What irony!"_

 _More laughter._

 _Smack._

 _"Uaaah!"_

 _"I assume you don't get to talk much, around here. The nights must be pretty steamy..."_

 _"WHAT is going on here?"_

 _Harry was standing in the doorway, his_ Avada _green eyes flashing furiously at the two Death Eaters looming over Draco, who was cowering naked in his corner. One of the men held a whip in his right hand. Macnair._

 _The man turned towards Harry with a grin. "Oh, Potter. We're just having some fun with the traitor."_

 _"I can see that. With whose blessing, if I may ask?"_

 _The men exchanged puzzled glances._

 _"This is MY apartment and MY slave. I would politely request that in the future, you keep your damn paws off of my property!"_

 _Macnair and his colleague now looked decidedly uncomfortable. "Potter... it was all in good fun."_

 _"I do not jest where my property is concerned."_

 _He walked over to the bleeding Malfoy who had curled up into a tight, protective ball. "You! How dare you let anyone else but me touch you?"_

 _"Forgive me, Master! I did not mean to, Master!"_

 _The Death Eaters recovered their grins at the spectacle. "Well, well, little Malfoy is afraid of the big bad Potter."_

 _Their satisfaction was a tangible thing._

 _"If you would be so kind as to leave me now? I need to have 'words' with my slave."_

 _Schadenfreude. "But of course, Potter." The Death Eaters turned to go._

 _"Macnair?"_

 _"Yes, Potter?"_

 _"Leave the whip."_

 _More laughter._

 _The door banging shut._

 _"...Draco? Draco, sit up. They are gone... Oh God, what have they done to you?" Hurriedly, Harry transformed into a phoenix. He cried for Draco._

 _Only when all the wounds had closed, Harry alighted on the bed and sang a haunting melody for the still trembling youth. He put all of his pain and sadness into the song. Draco listened to the phoenix, and despite his agitation he felt safe. Soon after, he fell asleep, tears glistening wetly in the corners of his eyes._

 _\- End Flashback -_

* * *

As soon as he knew how, Harry had put up some serious warding around his chambers, barring anyone from entering without his permission. Thus Draco was safe. However, from time to time Harry had visitors or came home still talking to someone. Voldemort himself, or some other Death Eater he had not managed to shake off.

In those cases, Harry made a big production of opening the door, thus buying Draco time to prepare for the 'visit'. In detail, that meant he had to take off everything except for the sheer silk pants, put on the collar, and kneel down on the faded mattress they still kept for this very purpose. From that position, he would greet his 'Master' demurely, showing himself thoroughly intimidated.

They both stated out hating this act, but in time, they became pretty good at it. On particularly stressful days, they deliberately used the farce to burn off some steam through an extra adrenaline rush - and to get rid of unbidden guests more promptly.

It usually stared with Draco asking hesitantly if his Master desired his company right away or later. There were a few Death Eaters whom Draco knew for sure hated the idea of a same-sex couple. For those particular guests, the boys staged a blatantly exhibitionist, erotic show that frequently culminated in their guests' hasty retreat from the chambers, while Harry and Draco repaired to the bedroom no less urgently.

At first, they both had issues with their slave and master roles, but soon they found a perverse delight in playing their part to the hilt, only to switch roles with the door slamming shut.

Scaring off homophobic Death Eaters was one of the few real pleasures still left to the former Hogwarts rivals.

* * *

Harry was munching disinterestedly on a mozzarella sandwich he had ordered from the House Elves when a freshly showered Draco exited the bathroom, ready for bed. He grabbed one of the chairs and positioned it directly behind Harry's. Unbidden, he began massaging his raven-haired partner's shoulders.

"Ouch, I'm going to break my fingers! You are so tense I could not tenderize these muscles with a blacksmith's hammer." Despite the stated hopelessness of the situation, he continued fiercely kneading Harry's shoulders. A loud 'plop' sounded and Harry moaned, his face twisted in pain.

"Aah! I think one of those muscles just jumped back into place. How many are left, do you think?"

"Oh, several dozen, I'd wager."

"Sadist," Harry grumbled. But his posture slowly relaxed. He was putty in Draco's hands.

Surprisingly enough, after all that had happened, he still had enough trust in someone to surrender himself so completely to them. He held nothing back from Draco: neither the crimes he committed in Voldemort's name every day, nor the thoughts plaguing him when he stood over his fallen victims. Even his doubts whether he would ever be able to love again, or if he would find the strength to go on living after Voldemort's death, he shared with Draco.

The blond usually listened to him silently, then stated his opinion on one topic or the other. Often, he managed to dispel Harry's worries, to cheer him up or distract him. He was a priceless support without whom Harry probably would not have lasted even a week.

Not only his moral support was keeping Harry alive, but the intellectual, as well. In the evenings, or during Harry's days off, the two forged plans for the Dark Lord's demise together. During the day, while Harry was out and about, Draco hit the books Harry always brought back for him to find curses and charms that would keep his friend alive during the next bloody massacre. Or at least make his 'job' easier.

He had already hit upon some true gems. Like the method for re-directing any spell, up to and including the _Avada Kedavra_ ; or the jinx to curb a man's virility. No Death Eater would admit to the shame of obviously not getting it up in the ruins of a scorched village. Thus, after learning this spell, Harry at least never had to witness a rape again.

But by far the most useful thing Draco had found to date was a charm to hide a spell's true nature. Harry practised the nights away until he was capable of casting this charm silently and with minimal wand motions. Draco had been coaching him in wandless spell-casting from the start, and now it proved its full worth. With the help of this charm, Harry could pretend to cast an _Avada Kedavra_ , while actually sending nothing more noxious than a green-tinged _Stupefy_.

It wasn't much, but at least it kept him from adding more deaths to his account. Only when the battle raged too fiercely, there was simply no time for such finesse. Like today.

"Draco... Today, we attacked Hogsmeade."

"Hogsmeade?!"

"Yes. For effect, only. We never intended to hold the village, that would be pretty unrealistic - much too close to Hogwarts, too well-guarded. But Voldemort wanted us to slaughter a few children to further intimidate the wizarding world. - It was a Hogsmeade weekend," he added tonelessly.

"Oh Merlin!" Draco stopped massaging Harry's shoulders and wrapped both arms tightly around the former Gryffindor's torso. Harry let himself be drawn close to Draco, soothing words being whispered in his ear.

"It was horrible," he then continued in the same lifeless tone. "Children everywhere, and us smack in their middle. I could not protect all of them. So many of them died..."

"Hushh... I am sure there would have been many more casualties without you."

"No, you don't understand! _I_ killed one of those children! I... I redirected as many _Avadas_ as I could and replaced many more with _Stupefies_ , but - there were twenty of us! I could not watch everyone at once!

"And then there was that group. Three children. I don't know if they all had Death Eater parents, but one of them could cast the killing curse! He cast it at one of his classmates, Draco! I redirected the curse and it - it fell back on the boy who sent it. I killed a child, Draco. A child!"

"Shhh, Harry, you had no choice. If you had not interfered, the other child would have died."

"He still did." Harry sounded dispirited like never before. "I could protect him from one curse, but not from ten. Later, Dolohov was standing so close to me that I could no longer risk diverting any curses. It is great that as their leader, I am entitled to send him as far from me as I like; but I can't overuse that, or they will grow suspicious.

"God, I was so relieved when the Aurors showed up! Finally, we could let the children go and sound the retreat. But..."

"What is it?"

"Tonks was there." A whisper.

"Tonks? My cousin?"

"Yes... She looked at me. Her eyes seemed so disappointed and so - so _dejected_! Like she had abandoned all hope. Draco, don't you think it would have been better if I'd let it be, after all? If I'd just died?"

"Harry, don't talk like that! Then what would have become of me?"

"I'm sorry..."

"And besides. If you were dead, Voldemort would play your body like a puppet. I heard he is well-educated in necromancy. You'd still be out there just as you are now, Harry. Only you wouldn't be able to protect anyone, since your body would be walking about without your heart."

"My heart... do you think I've got one?"

Draco's chest constricted painfully at the lost sound of Harry's voice. "Of course you do. Without your silly Gryffindor heart, you would have sent your former friends packing long ago, thrown me to the Death Eaters like a hunk of meat to the wolves, and would have taken off for Canada or Switzerland or who knows where. Or you would have joined Voldemort for real."

"Yes..."

Both were silent for a while.

"Harry?"

"…"

"Harry. You need to cry."

"I know."

"So...?"

"I don't know if I still can."

"If you can no longer cry, you have lost. That's the first step towards madness. Harry, please. Try! Think of all the people who died today."

Harry's face remained blank.

"Think of the friends who abandoned you. Granger. Weasley. Dumbledore..."

The former Gryffindor's face twisted.

"Fawkes."

A single tear fell.

"Think of the childhood you never had."

And Harry knew he could still cry. For himself. For Draco. For the wizarding world.

After Draco had loosened his arms from where they held him, Harry turned into his phoenix form and started spilling fat, hot phoenix tears. Silently, Draco took hold of the wand Harry had brought back for him from one of the battles, and _accioed_ a flat bowl from the keep's kitchen. He took great care to collect every single phoenix tear. Harry's tears might not be as potent as true phoenix tears, but they still had amazing healing powers.

Nowadays, Harry always carried several phials of phoenix tears into battle, which he spilled 'completely accidentally' over some seriously injured fighter for the light side in an unobserved second. To avoid questions about the phials, he also carried several poisons and a bit of _Veritaserum_ , which had proven useful as well, a time or two.

Once his tears had dried, Harry transformed back. Then he vanished his barely-touched sandwich with a wave of his wand and carefully stood up. Dragging his feet, he slowly set off for the bathroom.

Their bedroom was very silent that night. Draco lay awake until dawn. He was holding Harry in his arms, who, despite a generous dose of _Dreamless Sleep_ , moaned loudly and turned in Draco's arms as though in pain.

 _You have a heart, Harry. Of course you do. How else could you be in so much pain?_


	12. July 30th, 1998

_(Disclaimer: see chapter 1)_

 _ **Beta:** The amazing RedButterfly33. Thank you!_

 _ **A/N:** A huge thank you to my ever-faithful reviewer (you know who you are :) ) and also to HeartsGlow for some seriously helpful feedback! (Timeline was off and has been slightly adjusted due to said feedback, see chapters 0-3.)  
_

* * *

 **11.**

* * *

 _July 30th, 1998_

"My Lord, I have two favours to ask of you."

Harry was kneeling in front of Voldemort on the cold stone floor, gaze lowered, wand extended submissively in front of him.

"Speak."

"Tomorrow is the day of our final battle against Hogwarts. It is also my birthday. Please, may I take my slave along? He is fully under my control and he could be of use. He can keep the enemy off my back. Also, I'd like to have him on hand for my amusement right away when we celebrate our victory."

Voldemort grinned with wicked understanding. "Be my guest. What else do you desire?"

"It's about my former _friends_ ," he spat contemptuously.

Voldemort heard the hatred in Potter's voice and saw that same hatred in his loyal subordinate's mind. The thought that the boy might be diligently practising _Occlumency_ with his slave never entered his head. He raised one eyebrow to incite the other to continue, which, of course, the kneeling man could not see. "Well?"

"Should we encounter any of my closest _friends_ tomorrow" - he sniffed like a nobleman at the sight of mudbloods - "I wish for the exclusive right to call them to account."

"Granted."

* * *

"Tomorrow is the day. The final battle against the Dark Lord's troops is upon us."

Nobody doubted McGonagall's words. There could be no further battles. The war had already taken so many lives that the side of light was simply incapable of scraping together enough fighters to charge into battle again after this last attempt.

There were about thirty people in the Hogwarts teachers' lounge. They were the last survivors of the Order of the Phoenix. Fawkes, the Order's symbol, sat mutely and sadly as always on his perch in the corner. Ever since Dumbledore's death, he had become very taciturn. No-one was surprised that he had stopped singing - there was no-one left who could have understood. And it was too late for his song to cheer them. They had lost too much to accept false hope any more.

"We all know that we cannot win."

Jaded, haggard faces accepted her words without surprise. A dull resignation prevailed that would have appalled many of those present just three months ago - before Harry Potter had joined the Dark Lord.

Before, there had been room for the furtive hope that once Potter had served his ten years in Azkaban, he would once more take on the Dark Lord and deliver the world from his evil. He was hated even back then, no doubt about it. He was a cold-blooded murderer who had abandoned the wizarding world. But maybe, after Azkaban, he would still be powerful, but crazy enough that he could be controlled.

There were rumours about a prophecy according to which only the Boy-Who-Lived could defeat the Dark Lord. Well, if that prophecy was correct, the wizarding world's future prospects were bleak. For the Dark Lord was stronger than ever. Worse, he now had Potter on his side, who was nearly as strong as the Dark Lord and at least as hateful and cruel.

There were new reports of Death Eater attacks on a daily basis, many of which were led by the Dark Lord's right-hand man. One was as bad as the other. Potter murdered with a stony face and without hesitation. The few who survived such attacks often only escaped by a miracle, most did not know themselves why or how.

One such survivor was Hermione. She shivered whenever she remembered the day she had faced Harry in battle.

* * *

 _\- Flashback -_

 _Three Death Eaters had surrounded her. Her wand was in the middle one's hand. Resigned to her fate, she closed her eyes and waited for the inevitable._

 _"Hold!"_

 _The cold voice of the man who had once been her friend made her eyes snap open._

 _"This one belongs to me."_

 _His cruel, cold smile made the blood freeze in her veins._

 _The Death Eaters respectfully stepped aside, while their leader raised his wand. A hissing sounded._ Parseltongue, _Hermione thought. Then all thoughts fled her, for a gleaming black poisonous snake was racing towards her and sunk its teeth deeply into her leg. Numbly, she saw Potter bending down to her. He spat on her wounded leg and the pain made her scream._

 _The last thing she heard before she lost consciousness was Potter's voice quietly hissing into her ear: "If you had not wrongfully locked me up, things might have been different." Later, she would attribute the sad look in those cold eyes to her imagination and the effect of the poison._

 _\- End Flashback -_

* * *

She had awoken that evening at St. Mungo's. No trace remained of the snake bite. No-one could tell her what had happened. But there had been rumours before of a traitor in the Death Eaters' ranks, who kept saving children, Muggles and a few random wizards and witches with the help of unfathomable tricks in the middle of an attack.

He never revealed his identity and most who heard of his deeds kept silent so as not to jeopardize his position. Still, among the Order and the Aurors, the rumour had long since been accepted as the truth and they were racking their brains as to how they could contact that wizard to achieve a closer cooperation.

Hermione was grateful to her secret saviour. But ever since that day, she had been brooding over Potter's words. Wrongfully locked up? Did he mean Azkaban? Had he gone so mad that he did not realize the murder of his relatives had been a massive crime? Or did he mean to imply he had been innocent of that crime?

She thought of Malfoy and his fight for an appeal of Potter's case. Many had seen it as proof of Potter's guilt that _Malfoy_ was trying to set him free. Hermione hadn't been so sure. Why would a Malfoy risk his hide for a hopeless battle? That wasn't like him.

Finally, she had stopped poring over Malfoy's motivation when they had unceremoniously locked him up as a 'criminal's supporter'. There were more important things to worry about, such as the next Death Eater attack.

Soon, there would be no such 'more important things'.

Tomorrow was the last stand against the Death Eaters and their followers. Vampires, werewolves and perhaps snakes, as well, were expected to show. It was unknown what other magical creatures the Dark Lord and Potter might have seduced to their side.

Hagrid and Madam Maxine had ultimately succeeded in convincing the giants to stay out of the fight. Remus had brought a few werewolves over to their side. Since Potter's escape from Azkaban, Snape could no longer work as a spy and was thus able to provide enough Wolfsbane potion for everyone. In addition, he had developed several aggressive potions for use on the battlefield over the last couple of months, which had caused some serious damage amongst the Death Eaters.

Still, Hermione knew that McGonagall was right. The old headmistress, who after her predecessor's death had turned into a bitter and angry leader, now continued with her speech.

"We cannot win. Albus Dumbledore has fallen in the fight against Voldemort. Soon after, Azkaban was taken by the enemy and Potter switched sides. Our hope for victory is minimal; yet our thirst for revenge is great.

"We will fight.

"We are not cattle to be kept for breeding! Every man is worth exactly the same, be they Muggle or wizard, pureblood or halfblood, werewolf or vampire! We have no wish to live in a world where a man's worth is measured by his pedigree! We want freedom and justice! If we cannot have that, we choose death!

"But we will not go quietly. Let us show the world that the wizards and witches of Great Britain will not be suppressed. And so I call you all to this our last fight: Against the Death Eaters!"

Furious cheering answered her call.

* * *

"You should go."

"What for? I know he betrayed me. Why hope? If I hope again, I can only be disappointed again."

"How do you know you will be disappointed?"

"So far, everyone has been a disappointment - except for you, of course."

"But he is a phoenix and phoenixes do not lie. They are not capable of it."

"And yet he abandoned me. A week, Draco. An entire damn week!"

"Maybe something happened to him?"

"Even if he had burned, it shouldn't have taken him more than three days."

"And if he has died?"

"He is Dumbledore's familiar, only the old man's death could harm him. But even if Dumbledore died, Fawkes would probably survive it. Phoenixes are nigh on immortal! If he has died, though: what good is it to fly over there?"

"At least you would know he hasn't betrayed you."

"What good is that now?"

"I know you do not plan to survive tomorrow. If I... if my love doesn't suffice to keep you here... then... maybe Fawkes can do it? I know you loved this bird more than anything. After all, he was the only friend you knew for an entire year."

"Yes..."

"So please, do me a favour and go. We never get any news around here. Voldemort is keeping all information from you. We have the library to study; but never anything about the world outside this stronghold. You only get to go outside for a few hours when there is a battle to be fought. When it comes down to it, you are as confined as I am.

"You do not know what really kept Fawkes from you back then. I know you don't love me. But for the sake of our friendship: please, at least try!"

* * *

"Against Potter!"

More cheering.

"Against the Dark Lord!"

The loudest yells and screams yet.

It was the scream of despair. Hermione wondered how many of the wizards loudly professing their will to give their lives in the struggle for justice today would break tomorrow at the last battle's first curse and high-tail it out of there. A gentle, doleful melody from outside the window pulled her from her thoughts.

Fawkes had noticed it, too. He suddenly sat up straighter; then he shot out the window with great strokes of wing, quick as a disarming charm.

"Fawkes, where are you going?"

"Fawkes!"

"If only we had someone who understood him!"

* * *

 _"Fawkes."_

 _"Harry Potter."_

 _"You're alive."_

 _"Should I not be?"_

 _"No, it's fine."_

Fawkes cocked his head. The other sounded downright disappointed.

 _"If you are not here for me, what do you want in Hogwarts? Have you become a spy now, as well?"_

 _"Bah! I did come for your sake. Draco sent me. He said phoenixes cannot lie. Well, I guess I have just found the proof that there is one phoenix who can."_

 _"You are not a real phoenix."_

 _"I was speaking of you."_

 _"Me?"_

 _"_ 'You can count on me, Harry.' _Does that sound at all familiar?"_

 _"I never broke my word. I always stood by you - until you abandoned us."_

Fawkes stared angrily at the other phoenix. He knew he could not harm him. And yet he was filled with such disappointment and anger that he could have happily thrown caution to the wind and driven his beak into the green eyes of that phoenix sitting in such a reproachful stance before him on the roof of the West Tower.

 _"That is not true. You betrayed me to Dumbledore."_

 _"To save your life."_

Fawkes didn't think it was possible for a phoenix to utter a disdainful snort, but that was the only way to describe the throaty sound his opposite was now producing.

 _"Oh, so you did it for me? How magnanimous."_

 _"Potter, what is this? You are the one who abandoned us!"_

 _"_ I _abandoned_ YOU _?!"_

 _"You joined Voldemort!"_

 _"After you left me!"_

 _"I never... Oh sweet Justice!"_

 _"You finally catching on?"_

Fawkes heard the bitterness in the other's voice and closed his eyes in horror.

 _"_ Three days _, you told me, Fawkes. At most. And a week later, Voldemort came to get me - and still no word from you! If Dumbledore had kept his word and gotten my case reopened the next day, maybe I would not have fallen into Voldemort's hands. If you had not betrayed me to Dumbledore, I may at least have been able to warn you of the impending attack on Azkaban! If..."_

 _"Albus is dead, Harry."_

 _"…"_

 _"He confronted Voldemort that day at the Burrow."_

 _"…"_

 _"The Weasleys got out of it alright, but Dumbledore fell in that duel."_

 _"Oh..."_

 _"He was my familiar. It is true, I had tied myself more to you than to him already, so his death did not take me. But I was weakened for two entire weeks._ _Then I finally burned and rose from my ashes with renewed strength. I rose and found myself in a world fighting a hopeless war. You had joined Voldemort. I wished I could fall back to ashes."_

 _"_ _You mean... you did not deliberately abandon me?"_

 _"Of course I did not! You were more important to me than my own familiar!"_

 _"Oh Fawkes...!"_ Tears sparkled in the animagus-phoenix's green eyes.

 _"Well, too late to cry over past mistakes now. You have already made your choice."_ This time, Fawkes was the one to sound bitter.

 _"What choice?"_

 _"You turned your back on us. Well, if you believed I had betrayed you, I suppose you were lonely enough... that I can understand such a decision. Still I would not have expected it from you."_ He looked at Harry sadly. _"I remember your words well: you would rather have died than joined Voldemort."_

 _"That hasn't changed."_

 _"What?"_

 _"I may play his follower. But that does not mean that I am. Was Snape on his side? I carry the Dark Mark, but since my power is as great as his, he cannot fully control me with it. Voldemort believes he owns me... I tell you this, he will have the surprise of his life tomorrow!_

 _"It was all Draco's idea, actually. He's also the one who showed me how to disguise a_ Stupefy _as an_ Avada _."_

 _"YOU are responsible for all the miraculous survivors?"_

 _"Fawkes, think!" Harry tiredly reprimanded him. "What, other than phoenix tears, could have healed something like that bite on Hermione's calf?"_

 _"You are not on his side?"_ Fawkes sounded fairly awestruck.

 _"No! How could I be!"_

 _"Oh Harry! I am so sorry!"_

 _"So am I, Fawkes. So am I."_

* * *

"What is it?"

"Looks like a phoenix."

"Huh? I know Fawkes is up there. But why?"

"No, another phoenix."

"There are others?"

"Ron, don't be stupid. Of course Fawkes is not the last of his kind. They may be rare, but they are far from extinct. I have to admit, though, that I have never seen another one, either..."

Hermione frowned. She tried to lean further out of the window to get a better look at the two magical birds. She nearly fell out the window as a result. Ron just so managed to grab her.

"They seem to be having a conversation," Ron stated.

"Do you think this is Fawkes's mystery contact from whom he always brought information to Dumbledore?"

"Could be; after all, phoenix tears would be a good explanation for your leg's healing."

"But who on Voldemort's side could be secretly keeping a phoenix?"

"I don't kno-"

"He's crying!"

"Who?"

"The other phoenix! ...And Fawkes, too!"

"Oh Merlin. That can't possibly be a good sign."

* * *

 _"You thought all those weeks I had abandoned you? And still you schemed against Voldemort?"_

 _"It is the only reason I am still alive."_

 _"For your revenge?"_

 _"At first, yes. Now, not so much."_

 _"What do you mean?"_

 _"I have one more reason to outlive Voldemort, now. I may not die while he is alive, because that would mean abandoning Draco to the Death Eaters."_

 _"Draco? Draco Malfoy?"_

 _"The one and only. He is the only human who believed in me. Did you know he tried to get me freed?"_

 _"Yes, the newspapers were full of it. I did not tell you back then because I thought it would only serve to distress you."_

 _"How so?"_

 _"Well, his fight was doomed from the start. If you had thought him serious, you would have felt guilty because of him. But if you had thought it all a plan of Voldemort's to further discredit you, you might have turned even more embittered. I did not want to risk that."_

 _"Okay..."_ Harry wasn't sure what to think about that. But he was just beginning to regain his trust in Fawkes and did not want to ruin that because of a minor difference of opinion. It was just too good to have his old friend back.

 _"Do you have a plan for tomorrow?"_ , he asked.

 _"Hum... Even if we did, there would be little use in telling you: If you have any ideas for improvement, I cannot convey them. There is no-one left who understands my language. No-one but you..."_

 _"I am sorry to hear that."_

 _"Yes..."_

 _"Hm. Do you trust me enough to tell me the plans regardless? Then at least I can limit the damage from my side until the time has come to confront Voldemort."_

 _"Let us be honest. We both know that the Order, Aurors and the various other supporters of the Light cannot win tomorrow without you. They all know that just as well as we do, Harry."_

 _"What are you trying to tell me?"_

 _"There is no plan."_

 _"Oh Merlin..."_

…

 _"Harry, I am glad you came. You have given me back hope."_

 _"Yes, you too."_

 _"How is that?"_

 _"I need a lot of self-confindence for that one spell tomorrow. Otherwise, there's a risk of losing myself in the casting. Draco knows as well as I do that I like him, but do not love him. If I have ever given away my heart, it was to Hedwig and to you. If... if I hadn't known that you are on my side, I might not have been able to work my part of the spell. I felt so lonely. I know it's unfair towards Draco, he cares so much for me. But... I need you, Fawkes."_

Were he human, Fawkes probably would have blushed. But the phoenix merely measured Harry with one long glance, then quietly began to cry.

 _"Harry, aren't there any people who are important to you?"_

 _"Draco is the only one."_

 _"And you don't love him?"_

 _"I have been disappointed by people too often. I don't think I will ever be able to love a human. But at least I've got you..."_

Tears streaked down Harry's cheeks, as well. It was only through Fawkes's words that he realized how emotionally stunted he had become.

The two phoenixes sat side by side on the tower for a long time, sharing their mute tears of sorrow. But finally, they tore away from their pain.

 _"I need to go back. If I make a single mistake tomorrow, it was all for naught. I should get some sleep... Besides, I need to say goodbye to Draco."_

 _"Say goodbye, Harry?"_

 _"He knows I don't plan to outlive Voldemort by much. Indeed, he finally surrendered the spell to me he found in the very beginning, but kept hidden from me. It affects our connection... If I let lose this spell, Voldemort is sure to snuff it - but, and this is why Draco did not want me to do it, there's a high chance I will die right along."_

They shared a long, silent gaze. Then Fawkes spoke up. _"Harry, if you die, I die. But remember, you are a phoenix; we don't wither so easily. Who knows? Maybe we will meet again tomorrow night in this life, after all."_

 _"I wouldn't count on it. But it is nice to know I will not have to go on this journey alone. Until tomorrow, then - one way or the other."_

 _"Farewell..."_

* * *

 _A/N: I know there are several things wrong with this chapter. The least of them being Harry's exaggeration. (It was five days, not a week. But I'm sure it seems longer in hindsight. :P) Much more of a challenge to credibility is the fact that Harry never knew about Dumbledore's death (yes, Red, I agree). I know I thought it plausible at the time of writing, since none of the Death Eaters actually like him and they'd refrain from small-talk, and Voldemort did keep him as a trophy to be trotted out when it suited his whims rather than as an actual general (and he had an interest in Harry not knowing this fact); however, if Harry can take wing now, why not earlier? I have no excuses (and no easy fix), so... um, sorry? ;)_


	13. July 31st, 1998

_(Disclaimer: see first chapter.)_

 _Beta: RedButterfly33, to the bitter end. :P Thanks, girl! ^^_

 _A/N: Some usually pretty positive characters may behave a bit OOC in this chapter. It's easily explained, though: They are angry. They are desperate. They've got nothing to lose and a great deal of hatred._ _Also, the spell being cast here is of course non-canon. It's a bunch of quasi-latin non-sense, just ignore the exact words. :P_

* * *

 **12.**

* * *

 _July 31st, 1998_

"It begins." Draco's voice trembled.

Harry cast a worried glance at the pale young man at his side. This was the first time in three months Draco was allowed to leave their quarters. He had spent his days researching ancient curses and modern illusions, as well as practising his magic; but due to lack of physical exercise, his body was in fairly poor condition. Adding to his burden, he would have to play Harry's slave all day today. Different from his 'Master', he did not wear Death Eater's robes wreathed in dozens of static defence wards, but a pair of skin-tight leather pants, a sheer string vest and a collar.

Harry and he had woven every defensive ward they knew into this collar; still Draco felt remarkably defenceless in the degradingly skimpy attire. With a shiver, he looked over the battlefield.

To his left and right stood ranks of Death Eaters, shoulder to shoulder with Voldemort's other allies. On the far side of the field huddled a colourful, motley crowd of all sorts of creatures. Men, centaurs, and even House Elves stared at the enemy with empty, resigned eyes.

Draco recognized some wizards in the traditional garb of the Order of the Phoenix, as well as a handful wearing Aurors' robes. To his great horror, nearly half the force was dressed in Hogwarts school robes.

"They have so few fighters left they are sending even the children and House Elves into battle." He exchanged sad glances with Harry.

The dark-haired youth sighed. "Fawkes said they have no hopes of victory. I only now really understand what he meant..." The alarmingly small group of fighters for the light gathered in front of the time-honoured gates of the wizarding school looked utterly pathetic compared to the ordered double ranks of Voldemort's Death Eaters.

Voldemort stepped forth.

"Hand the school over without a fight and your misery will come to an end that much sooner!" A malicious smirk stretched his thin lips and there could be no doubt in anyone's mind that even in the case of a total capitulation, he would make his victims suffer before their death.

Minerva McGonagall stepped forth in turn. "We do not negotiate with unscrupulous murderers! Drop the games and prepare to die, V-Voldemort!"

Harry had to hand it to his former Head of House: Even when her voice nearly broke, her upright posture showed nothing but just anger and a readiness to go down fighting.

Voldemort was not impressed. He laughed. "Tell me, Headmistress, is this all that is left of your piteous resistance? My field marshal will be bored."

His eyes deliberately strayed to Harry, who played along and pulled Draco close by the collar. "Not to worry, my Lord. I shall find ways to keep myself entertained."

Without further ado, he pressed a hard kiss to Draco's mouth.

It was their last kiss before the battle. None of those watching suspected that it was not about lust or dominance for the two young men. Rather, it was a desperate attempt to feel the other once more before the imminent events might separate them forever.

* * *

Ron despondently averted his eyes.

This... _person_ masquerading as Harry had nothing in common with his old school friend any more. Hidden in the backwaters of his mind, the hope had lingered that Harry might have killed the Dursleys more by mistake and actually was on their side, still. Upon seeing the degrading kiss Harry forced on his former school-yard enemy, however, Ron finally had to admit that nothing was left of the Harry Potter of old.

This man who made Ron pity even Draco Malfoy was responsible for countless murders. He led Voldemort's troops from one bloody slaughter to the next. He no longer acknowledged any friendships. He was hard-hearted and cold... and he would likely be the reason none of them survived today.

Ron just hoped for a quick death.

* * *

" _Avada Kedavra!_ "

With an unnecessarily great gesture, Harry sent another Auror to the dirt. His illusion was as perfect as ever. Macnair, at his side, threw him a triumphant look before surging ahead into the thick of the fighting.

"Now, Draco," Harry whispered to the blond standing close to him.

While all around them the battle raged on, the two convicted Dark Wizards retreated to the edge of the fray, towards the Forbidden Forest. There, they started reciting a spell so complex no-one had attempted to cast it for many centuries. It required two wizards speaking the incantation in absolute harmony. One discordant sound, even the hint of mistrust between them, and the spell would fail.

Draco closed his eyes in concentration. Sweat was beading Harry's forehead, but he forced himself to keep an eye on the battlefield. If Voldemort realized what they were up to before it was done, all would be lost.

 _"...noctem aeternam..."_

At the moment, Voldemort seemed fully content to cut an aisle of death through his enemies. Green lightning flashed around him and bodies lined his path. Scores of strangers died before Harry's eyes as they had done many times before. But this time, familiar faces were among the victims, too. Professor Sprout. Firenze. Ron.

 _"...vindicate et..."_

Tears streaked his cheeks while he watched the horrid slaughter, powerless to interfere. The spell demanded his full attention.

 _"...adesse et numquam..."_

Draco had brought the spell to Harry a month ago and they had practised it day and night since. Yesterday morning, they had finally managed it for the first time.

So many of Harry's former friends had already fallen. Luna. Dumbledore. Ginny. Shacklebolt. Hagrid.

They may have betrayed him, yet it brought him no satisfaction to see people dying all around him who had accompanied him through his school years, with whom he had fought, cried and laughed.

 _"...liberare non potest..."_

Today, he would put an end to it all. The Muggles would never know what had happened; and the wizarding world would probably only realize it in a few weeks, when the first of them dared poke their heads out of their hidy-holes. Over the course of the last three months, an increasing number of witches and wizards had emigrated from England, seeking refuge from Voldemort and his right-hand man. Only the few courageous souls who had turned up for today's battle still held the fort. Harry hoped the group would still have living members by the end of this day.

 _"...et perire!"_

He looked at Draco. The blond opened his eyes, caught Harry's gaze and held it. Their hands were locked, the battle around them forgotten, as both wizards could feel the magic they had conjured around them.

"You have to lock the target."

"I know. Today, I really become a mass murderer."

"There is no other way. Farewell..."

"You too..."

Harry gently extracted his hands from Draco's grip and held out his left arm to the only human friend he had left. The Dark Mark glimmered cold and foreboding on the pale skin. Draco reached out a hand. The magic condensed between his fingers and Harry's arm. Now...

"POTTER!"

Harry and Draco whirled around, wands raised.

Alastor Moody and Minerva McGonagall stood facing them, blood-spattered and with madness in their eyes. It broke Harry's heart, still he knew he now had to lock the spell on target. Otherwise, it would have all been in vain, all of it...

"Potter, how could you! How could you do this to us!" McGonagall was just as desperate as everyone else, but s fire still burned in the depths of her eyes, demanding, if not justice, at least revenge.

Harry gave her a tormented grimace. "I am not the one who betrayed anyone, here. And I have to dispatch Voldemort now, so please, Professor, give me just one more minute, then you can-" He did not get any further than that before Moody cut off his words.

 _"Caedus!"_

Draco's wand lowered before Harry had even raised his. _"Protego!"_

The spell was closely followed by a curse from Harry's wand that hit McGonagall and sent her to the ground.

Moody was shaking with rage, his eyes narrowed to angry slits. "Malfoy! Why are you protecting a Death Eater who is abusing you?"

"He does not abuse me - and he will defeat Voldemort."

"Well, well, the right-hand man makes his grab for power. Potter, I never knew you were so ambitious. _Avada Kedavra!_ "

Harry jumped aside and pulled Draco along. The killing curse whistled past his right ear. With a smooth roll, he got back to his feet, turning quickly back towards his enemy who was already casting another curse.

Harry countered while Draco stood up. Moody opened a veritable machine-gun fire of curses and Harry could do naught but react. With Draco's help, he finally found a gap in the old Auror's defence. All the while, the energy of the unfinished spell hung shimmering between the two Azkaban escapees.

 _"Sa-"_

 _"Avada Kedavra!"_ Harry had reflexively masked his _Stupefy_ as a killing curse, like always. But while Moody went down, another voice sounded behind his back.

 _"Sectumsempra!"_

"AAAAAaaaaaaah!"

Harry incredulously watched Draco collapsing beside him. A wide, bloody wound gapped across his chest, stretching from his left shoulder to his right hip. Blood welled in a red gust from Draco's body, seeping into the grounds of Hogwarts.

They had both focused on Moody and let McGonagall out of their sights. The proper old teacher had cast one of the darkest curses - barring the Unforgivables - at Harry's back. Draco had stepped in its way at the last moment.

 _"Expelliarmus!"_ Harry cast at the old woman with such force that her wand burst and she was swept off her feet, falling down hard several meters away. Harry knelt down and pulled the bleeding Draco into his arms.

In that moment, Harry realized what he had not wanted to admit to himself all this time: He may not have loved Draco the same way the blond loved him; but in his very own way, he _did_ reciprocate Draco's love.

How else could this moment be so painful?

"DRAAAAACOOOOO, NOOOOOOOOO!"

"Harry," Draco whispered weakly, "the spell..." He raised a trembling hand.

"Draco! I was the one supposed to die today, not you!" Harry cried in despair. "You were supposed to live..."

Draco smiled. "How could I live without you?"

Harry sobbed. His hot tears fell upon Draco's shredded torso. Neither of them noticed the wound slowly closing. But what difference did it make? Draco had already lost too much blood. There was no hope.

"Draco... If not for you, for whom am I supposed to save the wizarding world?"

"For yourself..." Draco's voice was fading.

Harry laughed harshly. "Myself?"

"Harry, I know you want to die, but you also wanted to-" _cough, cough_ "- chrm... to kill Voldemort, for so long - you mustn't give that aaaaaah-" _a gasp_ "- ...give that up for my sake. It is all that is left."

They looked at each other for one long, unblinking moment. Then Harry slowly extended his right arm.

"I love you, Draco."

Draco smiled at him again, but this time, it looked pained. "It isn't nice to lie to a dying man," he forced out before turning on his side and spitting out a lump of blood on the grass.

"No, you don't understand... I have always balked at the thought, but today I finally understood. Not Fawkes was there for me during the three worst months of my life, Draco. You were! Do you really think all that was meaningless? Do you imagine I could have shared your bed if I didn't feel attracted to you?"

"Attracted..."

"Do you believe even for one moment we could have even attempted this spell if you did not have my absolute trust? I love you, Draco. I love you!"

Harry laid his head on Draco's immaculate, white chest and cried.

"Then prove it to me... Show me the magic our love has wrought. That is my last wish..."

Harry allowed Draco to seize his arm. Searing pain shot through him from the point of contact and he fell into darkness.

* * *

Neville had been hit by one of the first _Avadas_ out of Harry's wand. He was more than a little surprised to find himself coming back to consciousness from a short blackout on the fringes of the battlefield. He should be dead.

He groggily tried to get up, but found himself incapable. Panic seized him at the thought Potter might have botched the curse and he was now paralysed rather than all dead, and would have to remain thus for the rest of his life. Then, logic reasserted itself as he found that his arms and legs were by no means numb, just limited in their mobility. He knew this feeling intimately, having thoroughly experienced it in his first school year. It was a full body-bind curse.

While he was still trying to puzzle out how an unmistakeable, green _Avada_ flying straight at him could have turned into a _Petrificus_ upon impact, he suddenly heard voices.

"I am not the one who betrayed anyone, here. And I have to dispatch Voldemort now, so please, Professor, give me just one more minute, then you can-"

 _"Caedus!"_

With rising confusion, Neville listened in on the evolving duel. He heard McGonagall dizzily getting back up after an _Avada_ and being felled again by an _Expelliarmus_. He witnessed the last words exchanged between Potter and Malfoy.

And he began to understand that they had made a terrible mistake.

Then, the screaming began.

* * *

Voldemort licked the blood off his shortsword. In the midst of the battle, he could not use the _Cruciatus_ for lack of time, but a simple _Avada_ did not satisfy his bloodlust. He wanted to make his victims suffer.

The Order and the handful of Aurors were no match for his Death Eaters. Even if he and Potter had stayed at the fortress, they were sure to have won this battle. It was disgusting how little resistance was left. So he wanted to enjoy this battle while it lasted. The most painful curses he knew along with his shortsword left a trail of writhing wizards and other creatures screaming out the last painful breaths of their miserable existence in his wake.

No-one even came close to his level of power, not a single one of them could harm him. Only Potter would have been strong enough to challenge him. But he was busy with his toy and seemed to have mostly lost interest in the fighting, Voldemort thought with a nasty smirk.

The smirk dropped abruptly from his face as agony pierced his body like a stroke of lightning.

His eyes wide with disbelief, he saw his Death Eaters dropping like flies around him, one after the other going down screaming and clutching their left arms, crumbling to the blood-soaked lawn where they thrashed in unmistakable death throes.

He felt an immense wave of magic washing over him and felling his Death Eaters by the dozen. Mechanically, he turned towards the source of the power. His motions were slow like those of an old man.

There, not three hundred meters from him, lay the Malfoy boy. Potter had collapsed on top of him. His black hair hid his face, but Voldemort clearly saw Malfoy's hand pressed to Potter's Dark Mark.

There could be no doubt who had caused this disaster.

"POTTER, YOU TRAITOROUS BASTARD!"

With these words, Voldemort breathed out the last of his power. His vision narrowed as he watched the cold floor rushing up to meet him.

Then he saw nothing more.

* * *

Hermione slowly came to her feet.

She had been hit by a ricochet shot - she had no idea what curse it had even been - and lost consciousness for a spell. That alone would have meant certain death in any other battle. Not so in this one.

As she had done once before, she returned to conscious life despite her certainty that she would be leaving it behind for good this time.

Around her, the Death Eaters were screaming. She did not know what had happened, but it was obvious that the dark-robed figures lay dying. As she looked around her, the screams slowly petered out. An unnatural calm spread out.

All unmarked followers of the Dark Lord had done a runner the moment the first Death Eater succumbed to this unknown magic. Now the sparse survivors of the light side were standing alone on a battlefield littered with corpses.

They had won. But nobody understood why.

Slowly, Hermione moved towards the centre of the battlefield, where Voldemort was still in his death struggle. He seemed unconscious, yet his body reared, twitched and thrashed. Together with the other survivors, Hermione looked on in morbid curiosity as the Dark Lord led a hopeless battle against his own death.

* * *

Neville wished he could move, could go to Harry and tell him he was sorry. Could go to the man who had been his friend and who had sacrificed himself today to save those who had betrayed him. Could be there for him in these last minutes.

He had heard the Boy-Who-Lived collapsing, only to start seizing and audibly thrashing about right after. Then Harry started mumbling. Neville listened.

He knew he would not forget a single word until the day he died.

* * *

 _"Potter! What curse is this?"_

 _"It is the curse that will end you, Tom,"_ the boy's tired voice answered.

 _"What have you done!"_

 _"I have woven a net that sucks magical energy from a target, together with Draco. Your Mark was the target. Through it, I have reached all of your followers... See, you would have been better off not giving it to me, after all. Hindsight is always twenty-twenty, isn't it. "_

If a disembodied mental presence could grin, Voldemort was sure Potter was doing it right now.

 _"Why are you in my head?"_

Genuine bafflement answered him. _"But I've always been!"_

 _"Always?!"_

 _"YOU gave me this scar. Don't tell me you forgot what you did to me through it in my fifth year?"_

 _"Have you been spying on me all this time?"_

 _"Of course I have. Didn't have much choice in the matter, though..."_

 _"That's impossible! I would have noticed!"_

 _"Draco was a good Occlumency teacher."_

 _"Malfoy? Your TEACHER?!"_

 _"You cannot imagine how much I learned this summer about play-acting and the art of suggestion, Tom."_

 _"It was all an act? ...Then you killed all those people just to complete your farce? - How oddly unscrupulous, for a Gryffindor."_

If Potter had to get him into this dead-end situation, at least he could suffer for it. But against his expectations, the other's mental presence seemed downright joyful when Potter answered him.

 _"Tom, if all went to plan, I will have murdered your entire following today by sucking out their magic life force. But the countless bodies I have supposedly slain before never existed._ _You know I did not_ _cause_ _the Dursleys_ _' deaths_ _. And t_ _here were only three times I have killed in your service._

 _"The first was during my initiation; the man was a prisoner and would have died regardless. The second was Wormtail. Yes, I know: I said Lestrange did it... I am not sorry that you killed him as a result. The third happened during the attack on Hogsmeade. A little devil tried to kill his classmate. I deflected. The curse took his life as it bounced back. It was more or less an accident, or so Draco told me."_

 _"No... Everyone saw you cast_ Avada Kedavra _..."_ The confusion was palpable.

 _"Not everything is as it seems, old man."_

 _"…"_

The conversation halted as both wizards felt their life force dwindling.

Suddenly, Potter was radiating a strange determination, as though he had formed some kind of resolution.

 _"Draco did not want me to die today. But if it has to be, then let us make an end. I am tired of talking to you."_

 _"Potter, what are you d-"_

 _"INCENDIO!"_

* * *

Like Neville on one end, Hermione and every other survivor able to get back to his or her feet had listened to the conversation from the other end with growing horror. Harry was innocent!

When Harry spoke his final word, flames leapt from the bodies of the two mightiest wizards of the century. Hermione watched dumbfounded how Voldemort's body was consumed in front of her eyes. Within seconds his lifeless body had been completely burned down. Nothing remained of him but a small pile of ash being slowly dispersed by the wind.

With tears blurring her vision, she looked over to where an identical plume of smoke to the one behind her curled up towards the sky. That must have been Harry's position. Harry, whom they had wrongfully sent to Azkaban. Harry, who had died for them.

 _I'm sorry, Harry!_

* * *

Fawkes flew across the battlefield. His sharp eyes followed the flow of magic. When he felt Draco and Harry spanning their net, he alit in a tree at the edge of the forest to watch the proceedings. The spell took him in and soon he felt incapable of averting his transfixed eyes from the immense amount of raw magical energy the two boys had gathered between them.

Too late, he noticed Alastor and Minerva approaching them.

He had to watch helplessly from the distance as Draco fell. He could all but hear something within Harry breaking.

Softly, he whistled a sad note. Now Harry surely would not consider the way back. Voldemort's death had just become a one-way road inescapably leading to Harry's death, as well.

He watched nearly apathetically while events played out as they must. Harry went down; twitched; grew ever stiller.

People cried. The wounded moaned. Sorrow enveloped the field.

But then -

A light.

Fire.

Fawkes straightened up.


	14. Epilogue

_(Disclaimer: See first chapter.)_

 _ **Beta:** RedButterfly33. One last time: Thank you! :)_

 _ **A/N:** I forgot to say so yesterday: A huge THANK YOU as always to mandancie! And thanks to everyone who fav'ed or reviewed. Love you guys! :D_

* * *

 **Epilogue**

* * *

"Harry...!"

"He is dead, Hermione. There is nothing we can do," Neville said quietly, having been released from the full body-bind by Hermione.

"Hey, listen...!"

"That's Fawkes!"

The two former Gryffindors listened reverently to the approaching phoenix's song. Fawkes alit on the small pile of ash that had once been Harry Potter. He cried.

The people watching the bird felt their hearts breaking at the sight. Fawkes had believed in Harry...

The phoenix's song was gentle and sad. And yet it seemed to soothe the pain in Hermione's chest. Fawkes did not sing of war and death. He was singing about hope. About friendship. And new beginnings.

Hermione turned towards Neville. "Fawkes is right, you know. We mustn't succumb to grief now. Harry has saved us. We should be grateful and enjoy the gift he has given us: our lives."

Neville replied with a shaky smile.

* * *

Neither of the two noticed the phoenix gingerly taking wing again, slowly disappearing over the treetops of the Forbidden Forest.

In his talons, he was holding a tiny, precious bundle full of life.

* * *

 _"Why did you come back?"_

 _"Because of you..."_

 _"Where do you want to go now?"_

 _"Away... Far, far away..."_

 _"That can be arranged."_

* * *

 _ **~ The End ~**_

* * *

 _One day I'll fly away  
Leave all this to yesterday  
Why live life from dream to dream  
And dread the day when dreaming ends_

 _One day I'll fly away  
Fly, fly away_

 _\- From the film Moulin Rouge_


End file.
